'^i^^J 


. <-*.t-';tifj 


OF   THE 

Theological    Seminary, 

PRINCETON,    N.  J. 


Case, 
Shelf, 
Book, 


BR  162  .M56  1870 
Merivale,  Charles,  1808- 

1893. 
The  conversion  of  the  Roman 

empire ,,  , 


THE  CONVERSION 


THE  roma:n^  empire 


THE   CO]^YEESIOI^ 


THE  ROMAN  EMPIRE. 


BOYLE  LECTURES 

FOR    THE    YEAR    1864. 
DELIVERED    AT    THE   CHAPEL    UOYAL,    WHITE II ALT.. 


CHAKLES   MERIYALE,  B.D., 

FIKOTOK   OP   LAWFOED  :    CHAPLAIN  TO   THE   SPEAKER  OP  THE  HOUSE  OF  COMMONS. 
ATTTnOK   OF  "  A   HISTORY  OF  THE  ROMANS  rNDEE  THE  EMPIRE."' 


NEW  YOEK: 
D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY, 

90,    92   &    94   GRAND    STREET. 
1870. 


CONTENTS 


LECTURE    I.      (Page   17.) 

CHRISTIAN   BELIEF   CONTRASTED   WITH   HEATHEN    UNBELIEF. 

Acts  xvii.  32. 

And  when  tliey  heard  of  the  resurrection  of  the  dead,  some  mocked :  and 

others  said,  We  will  hear  thee  again  of  this  matter. 


LECTUEE    II.      (Page   37.) 

HEATHEN   BELIEF  DIRECTED  TOWARDS  A  TEMPORAL   PROVIDENCE 

Acts  xtii.  22. 

Then  Paul  stood  in  the  midst  of  Mars'  hill,  and  said.  Ye  men  of  Athens,  I 

perceive  that  in  all  things  ye  are  too  superstitions. 


I 

LECTURE    IIL      (Page  56.) 

EXPANSION    OF   HEATHEN   BELIEF   BY   THE   TEACHING    OF  THE 
PHILOSOPHERS. 

Acts  xvii.  2G. 

God  hath  made  of  one  blood  all  nations  of  men,  for  to  dwell  on  all  the  face 

of  the  earth. 


LECTURE    IV.      (Page  8L) 


EXPANSION   OF   HEATHEN   BELIEF   BY   THE    IDEAS    OF    ROJIAN 
JURISPRUDENCE. 

Galatians  III.  24. 
The  law  was  our  schoolmaster  to  bring  us  unto  Christ. 


VI  CONTENTS. 

LECTURE    V.      (Page   102.) 
THE  nEATin:>f  awakened  to  a  sense  of  nis  spiritual  danger. 

1  John  iv.  21. 

And  fills  commandment  have  we  from  Him,  That  he  who  loveih  God  love  hh 

brother  also. 


LECTURE    VL      (Page   123.) 
efforts  of  the  heathen  to  avert  spiritual  ruin. 

St.  Mark  ix.  24. 

And  sfraiffhtwa.!/  the  father  of  the  child  cried  out,  and  said  with  tears,  Lord, 

I  believe  ;  help  Thou  mine  unbelief. 


LECTURE    Vn.      (Page  147.) 

the    doctrines    of    CHRISTIANITY    RESPOND    TO    THE    QUESTIONS 
OF    THE    HEATHENS. 

St.  Matthew  xxviii.  19. 
The  name  of  the  Father,  and  of  the  Son,  and  of  the  Hob/  Ghost. 


LECTURE    VIIL      (Page   167.) 

THE    GODLY   EXAMPLE    OF   THE    CHRISTIANS  COMPLETES  THE   CON- 
VERSION   OF    THE    EMPIRE. 

Acts  xvii.  C. 
These  that  have  tamed  the  ivorld  itpside  down  are  come  hither  also. 


^^xiro';^^ 


PREFACE. 


The  conversion  of  tlie  Roman  Empire  to 
Christianity  is  a  very  comprehensive  subject  of 
inquiry.  It  is  a  subject  not  for  a  dissertation  but 
for  a  history,  for  it  involves  a  ])rogressive  change 
extending  over  three  or  more  centuries,  and  is 
marked  by  a  series  not  only  of  moral  and  intel- 
lectual, but  of  political  revolutions.  It  embraces 
a  multitude  of  events,  and  presents  to  us  a  long- 
gallery  of  individual  characters.  It  points  back- 
ward to  the  origin  and  progress  of  thought  and 
feeling  on  religious  questions  ;  and  forv^ard  almost 
to  the  farthest  expansion  that  they  have  hitherto 
attained.  It  is  in  itself  the  history  of  religion 
brought  into  one  focus,  for  there  is  little  probably 
in  the  later  course  of  human  speculation  on  the 
most  interesting  of  all  questions,  of  wliich  the  germ 
and  often  tlie  full  development  may  not  be  traced  in 


PREFACE. 


tlie  controversies  of  primitive  Christianity  witli 
Paganism.  In  undertaking  to  give  a  sketch,  of 
this  subject  within  the  limits  of  eight  lectures  de- 
livered from  a  pulpit  to  a  mixed  and^  fluctuating 
congregation,  I  have  not  supposed  that  I  could  do 
more  than  indicate  a  few  of  its  most  salient  points, 
and  suggest  topics  of  reflection  and  possibly  of 
inquiry  that  might  lead  some  of  my  hearers  or 
readers  to  a  further  and  more  fruitful  considera- 
tion of  it.  With  this  view,  in  printing  these 
Lectures  accordino;  to  the  terms  of  the  foundation 
on  which  they  were  delivered,  I  have  aj)pended 
to  them  some  explanatory  and  illustrative  notes 
which  seemed  to  be  required  for  the  better  un- 
derstanding of  my  remarks ;  but  still  the  volume 
which  I  lay  before  the  reader  does  not  pretend  to 
be  a  formal  disquisition  on  tlie  subject — still  less, 
I  need  hardly  say,  to  be  a  history  of  the  great 
transformation  of  opinion  of  which  it  treats. 

It  may  be  well  to  observe,  however,  that  the 
conversion  of  the  Empii^e  seems,  under  God's  prov- 
idence, to  have  been  afiected  principally  in  four 
ways : — 

1.  By  the  force  of  the  external  evidence  to  the 


PREFACE. 


truth  of  Christianity,  that  is,  by  the  apparent 
fulfihnent  of  recorded  prophecy,  and  by  the  his- 
torical testimony  to  the  miracles  by  "which  it 
claims  on  its  first  promulgation  to  have  been  ac- 
comjpanied. 

The  age  indeed  was  imcritical,  and  little  com- 
petent to  weigh  such  external  testimony  with  the 
accuracy  which  is  now  demanded.  There  was 
great  proneness  to  accept  the  claim  of  miracles ; 
but  ^  the  same  time,  and  in  consequence  of  this 
very  proneness,  very  little  weight  was  attached  to 
it  as  an  argument  of  Divine  power.  Great  stress 
was  laid  on  the  falfilment  of  prophecy,  but  in  this 
respect  also  the  age  was  liable  to  be  grossly  im- 
posed upon ;  and  it  must  be  allowed  that  the 
preaching  of  Christianity  owes  some  portion,  how- 
ever trifling,  of  its  success  to  the  false  pretensions 
of  the  so-called  Sibylline  Oracles,  which  fonn  no 
part  of  its  genuine  credentials. 

On  these  accounts,  and  because  a  discussion  on 
this  branch  of  the  subject  would  have  been  ill 
suited  to  discourses  fi'om  the  pulpit,  I  have  re- 
frained from  dwelling  upon  the  effect  of  the  ex- 


10  PREFACE. 

ternal  evidence  of  Christianity  in  tlie  conversion 
of  tlie  Empire. 

2.  By  internal  evidence,  from  the  sense  of 
spiritual  destitution,  the  consciousness  of  sin, 
the  acknowledged  need  of  a  sanctifier  and  a  re- 
deemer. 

This  in  the  primitive,  as  in  later  ages,  was  un- 
doubtedly the  most  eifectual  testimony  to  the 
Truth  in  Christ  Jesus.  It  appeals  to  all  men 
without  distinction  of  class  and  nation.  But  it 
addresses  itself  more  especially  to  men  of  intelli- 
gence and  moral  sensibility.  It  is  the  highest  and 
the  worthiest  testimony,  the  most  distinctive  of 
the  true  relio-ion,  the  most  foreisfn  to  the  charac- 
ter  of  the  false  religions  of  the  heathen,  yet  bear- 
ing a  mysterious  affinity  to  some  of  the  liighest 
and  worthiest  asj^irations  of  the  heathen  philoso- 
phy. It  addresses  itself  with  equal  power  to 
mankind  in  all  ages,  and  establishes  most  vividly, 
by  its  applicability  to  ourselves,  the  moral  con- 
nection which  subsists  between  the  men  of  the 
first  century  and  the  men  of  the  nineteenth. 

This  is  the  brancli  of  Christian  evidences  on 


PKEFACE.  11 

wliicli  I  have  most  emphatically  insisted ;  for  by 
this,  I  believe,  the  most  refined  and  intelligent  of 
the  heathen  were  actually  converted,  and  there  is 
non-e  to  the  action  of  which  we  can  point  so  rea- 
sonably and  justly  as  this. 

And  with  this,  may  be  combined  the  results 
which  flowed  from  the  recognised  want  of  a  sys- 
tem of  positive  belief.  The  Greeks  and  Romans 
had  generally  discarded  the  dogmas  of  their  old 
mythology.  They  had  rejected  tradition,  and  pre- 
tended to  shake  off  authority  in  matters  of  faith. 
Swayed  for  a  time  each  by  his  o^mi  conscience  oi' 
sensibility  only,  they  had  yielded  eventually,  more 
or  less  implicitly,  to  the  guidance  of  the  Soj^hists, 
the  perplexed  and  dubious  inheritors  of  the  sci- 
ence of  the  great  masters  of  antiquity  ;  and  by  a 
slow  but  inevitable  decline,  they  had  fallen  once 
more  under  the  dominion  of  newer  and  stranger 
formulas.  The  traditions  of  the  East,  of  Syiia, 
Persia,  and  Egypt,  tlie  worship  of  Belus  and 
Mithras,  of  Isis  and  Serapis,  had  popularly  re- 
placed the  traditions  and  the  worship  of  Jupiter 
and  Juno,  of  Hercules  and  Quirinus.  Christian- 
ity, it  should  be  clearly  understood,  did  not  suc- 
ceed at  once  to  the  vacant  inheritance  of  Olympus. 


12  PREFACE. 

Another  religion  had  interposed :  an  exotic  family 
of  superstitions  had  demanded  and  received,  for 
at  least  two  centuries,  the  devotion  of  the  pious, 
and  been  in  its  turn  rejected  as  a  mockery  and  a 
delusion.  Christianity,  in  fact,  was  not  simply 
the  resource  of  a  dissatisfied  philosophy ;  it  was 
not  accepted  as  the  only  refuge  from  the  blank 
negation  of  a  creed.  It  was  the  tried  and  ap- 
j^roved  of  several  claimants  to  the  sovereignty  of 
the  religious  instinct  among  men — tried  by  rea- 
son and  argument,  and  approved  from  its  own 
manifest  ada23tation  to  human  requirements.  The 
world,  I  conceive,  had  long  resolved,  in  spite  of 
the  philosophers,  that  a  positive  creed  was  neces- 
sary to  its  moral  being ;  it  had  endeavoured  in 
vain  to  satisfy  itself  with  systems  of  its  own  in- 
vention ;  it  yielded  at  last,  under  a  divine  impulse, 
to  that  w^hich  God  Himself  had  revealed  and  rec- 
ommended to  it. 

3.  There  is,  however,  a  third  kind  of  testimo 
ny,  the  character  of  which  I  would  not  be  suppos 
ed  to  disparage ;  a  testimony  which  worked  poW' 
erfuUy  upon  large  numbers  among  the  heathen 
among  persons  j^erhaps  of  less  critical  acumen 
but  eminently  susceptible  of  impressions  from  the 


PKEFACE.  13 

contemplation  of  goodness  and  holiness — tlie  tes- 
timony to  the  truth  of  Christianity  from  the  lives 
and  deaths  of  the  primitive  believers,  from  the 
practical  effect  of  Christian  teaching  upon  those 
who  embraced  it  in  faith.  The  godly  examples 
of  the  Christians  throughout  the  trials  of  life,  and 
especially  in  the  crowning  trial  of  martyrdom, 
were,  as  we  may  be  assured  from  history,  produc- 
tive of  thousands,  nay  of  millions,  of  conversions. 
On  this  subject  I  have  been  naturally  led  to 
touch,  and  would  willingly  have  expatiated,  but 
my  limits  and  the  scope  of  my  Lectures  did  not 
allow  of  my  dwelling  upon  it. 

4.  But  further,  among  the  multitude  there  was 
probably,  after  aE,  no  argument  so  effectual,  no 
testimony  to  the  divine  authority  of  the  Gospel 
so  convincing,  as  that  from  the  temporal  success 
with  which  Christianity  was  eventually  crowned. 
The  decline  of  the  Empire,  the  discredit  and  over- 
throw of  Paganism,  the  fall  of  Rome  itself,  did 
actually  turn  the  mass  of  mankind,  as  with  a 
swee]3ing  revolution,  to  the  rising  sun  of  revealed 
Truth  in  Christ  Jesus.  Men  of  earnest  thought 
and  men  of  ardent  feeling  had  already  been  con- 
verted by  the  e\T.dence  before  adduced ;  but  the 


14  PE.EFACE. 

great  inert  mass  of  tlie  tliouglitless,  the  gross- 
minded,  and  the  carnal,  upon  whom  no  legiti- 
mate arguments  could  make  any  impression,  were 
startled,  arrested,  and  convinced  by  the  last  over- 
ruling argument  of  success. 

The  success,  however,  was  not  assui'ed  till  the 
time  of  Constantine,  and  up  to  the  fourth  centuiy, 
at  least,  the  multitude  still  continued  to  cling  to 
the  false  gods  whose  overthrow  was  not  yet  man- 
ifestly aj)23arent.  The  conversion  of  the  more  in- 
telligent among  the  heathen,  which  encouraged 
the  cou/p  d''etat  of  the  first  Christian  Emperor, 
had  been,  I  conceive,  actually  effected  before  the 
proved  inefficacy  of  the  heathen  religions  had 
caused  them  to  be  abandoned  by  the  herd  of  time- 
servers.  The  Empire,  as  a  political  machine,  was 
now  transferred  to  the  rule  of  Christ :  its  laws  and 
institutions  were  placed  upon  a  Christian  founda 
tion :  the  conversion  of  the  Empire  was  substan- 
tially comj)leted,  whatever  doubt  or  repugnance 
might  long  linger  among  some  classes  of  its  sub- 
jects. Accordingly,  while  I  have  pointed  out  the 
effect  of  the  growing  distrust  of  their  own  systems 
among  the  heathens,  I  have  not  thought  it  neces- 
sary to  dwell  upon  a  cause  of  conversion  which, 


PREFACE.  15 

however  ultimately  effectual,  had  not  yet  begun 
to  operate  very  powerfully  within  the  limits  of 
time  to  which  these  sketches  are  confined.  Had 
my  treatment  of  my  thesis  extended  far  into  the 
foui'th  century,  it  would  have  been  important  to 
estimate  the  effect  of  the  Imperial  example,  which 
in  the  Roman  Emj^ire,  no  doubt,  as  elsewhere, 
must  have  determined  in  innumerable  instances 
the  conversion  or  conformity  of  the  peoj)le.  To 
the  Romans,  as  long  as  they  retained  a  spark  of 
ancient  sentiment,  the  Emperor,  in  his  capacity 
of  Chief  Pontiff — a  title  with  which  Constantine 
and  Valentinian  dared  not  dispense — seemed  still 
the  appointed  minister  of  the  national  religion, 
still  the  intercessor  for  divine  favour,  the  channel 
of  covenanted  mercies  to  the  State,  whatever  form 
of  ministration  he  might  employ,  to  whatever 
Name  he  might  address  himself  in  behalf  of  the 
Empire.  He  was  still  on  a  large  scale,  and,  in  the 
public  behoof,  what  the  Romans  had  been  wont 
to  consider  the  head  of  each  private  family  to  be 
in  his  domestic  sphere.  Cato  the  Censor  directed 
the  paterfamilias  to  offer  prayers  and  sacrifices  to 
Jupiter,  Mars,  and  Janus,  that  they  might  be 
propitious  to  "  himself,  to  his  house,  to  his  whole 
family ;  "  and  throughout  tlie  bounds  of  the  Ro- 


16  PREFACE. 

man's  farm,  tliere  was  no  bailiff,  hind,  or  bond- 
man wlio  would  have  ventured  probably  to  offer 
a  prayer  or  a  sacrifice  on  liis  own  account,  still 
less  to  question  the  authority  of  his  master  to  of 
fer  for  himself  and  for  them  all  whatever  prayers, 
and  whatever  sacrifices,  and  address  himself  to 
whatever  deity  he  might  choose.^  Nevertheless, 
the  struggle  of  the  Pagan  conscience'  against  the 
authority  of  the  Emperor  in  religious  matters  is 
a  marked  feature  in  the  history  of  the  fourth  cen- 
tury ;  and  the  effect  of  the  Imperial  example  in 
the  final  conversion  of  the  Empire  was  subject  un- 
doubtedly to  important  modifications.  M.  Beug- 
not's  '  History  of  the  Destruction  of  Paganism  in 
the  West,'  published  about  thirty  years  ago,  is 
still,  I  believe,  the  best  and  completest  work  we 
possess  upon  the  later  phases  of  the  great  trans- 
formation of  religion ;  but  the  subject  admits  of 
profounder  examination  and  a  more  extended  sur- 
vey. 

'  Cato's  injunction  to  the  Villicus,  De  Re  rust.  c.  143,  may  be  taken  as 
an  epitome  of  the  ecclesiastical  theory  of  the  Romans :  Scito  dominum  pro 
tota  familia  rem  divinam  facere. 


LECTURE    I. 

CHRISTIAN  BELIEF   CONTRASTED  WITH  HEATHEN  UNBELIEF. 

Acts  xvii.  32. 

And  when  tkey  heard  of  the  resurrection  of  the  dead,  some  mocked : 
and  others  said,  We  will  hear  thee  again  of  this  matter. 

To  meu  of  education,  to  men  of  academic  training 
and  accomplishments,  to  all  who  pretend  to  ground  their 
religious  faith  on  reasoning  and  argument,  no  study  can 
be  more  interesting  than  that  of  the  process  by  which 
Christianity  has  actually  won  its  way  in  the  minds  of 
the  intelligent  and  accomplished,  the  reasoners  and 
philosophers,  of  ancient  and  modern  times.  The  records 
of  Scripture  disclose  to  us  a  glimpse,  and  no  more  than 
a  glimpse,  of  the  form  which  the  discussion  assumed 
between  the  preachers  of  the  gospel  and  the  possessors 
of  human  wisdom,  in  the  centre  and  reputed  stronghold 
of  ancient  science.  The  account  of  St.  Paul's  address 
to  the  philosophers  of  Athens,  which  occupies  but  a 
portion  of  a  single  chapter  of  the  sacred  history,  suggests, 
as  it  seems  to  me,  more  directly  the  fundamental  ques- 
tion between  God's  revelation  and  human  speculation 


18  LECTUKE    I. 

than  any  of  the  ample  apologies,  or  explanatory  defences 
of  Christiauitj,  set  forth  by  the  fathers  of  our  faith  in 
the  centm-ies  next  ensuing.  The  apologists,  no  doubt, 
knew  what  they  were  aiming  at ;  they  had  their  own 
special  object,  which  they  placed  clearly  before  them ; 
they  met  the  objections  or  refuted  the  fallacies  which 
they  knew  by  their  own  experience  to  be  the  most  criti- 
cal and  the  most  harassing  of  their  own  times.  But 
neither  their  arguments- in  defence  of  Christ's  revelation, 
nor  their  arguments  against  the  pretensions  of  the  heathen 
superstition,  are  generally  such  as  to  engage  the  interest 
of  our  day ;  their  value  is  historical  rather  than  critical ; 
we  neither  go  to  them  to  confirm  our  own  faith,  nor  of 
course  do  we  require  their  help  to  perceive  what  is  false, 
absurd,  impossible  in  the  creeds  of  heathen  antiquity.  Ter 
tullian  and  Justin,  who  lived  in  the  ages  of  persecution, 
dwell  with  most  force  and  fervour  on  the  sanctity  of  the 
Christians'  lives  in  attestation  of  the  truth  of  the  gospel 
message.  Augustine  and  Lactantius,  witnesses  of  the 
triumph  of  the  new  religion,  expose  to  scorn  the  vain 
pretences  of  the  priests  of  Jupiter  and  Apollo :  but  the 
preaching  of  St.  Paul,  in  the  short  fragment  before  us, 
goes  in  one  word  to  the  root  of  the  matter,  and  sets  be- 
fore us  the  question  of  questions,  which  all  generations 
must  ask  and  do  ask  of  themselves — in  private,  in  their 
own  hearts,  if  not  in  public  debate  and  controversy — 
namely,  whether  God  has  given  us  the  assurance  of  His 
Being,  of  His  Providence,  and  of  His  Pighteousness,  by 
the  sure  and  certain  promise  of  a  Future  Existence? 


THE   PHILOSOPHERS   AT   ATHENS.  19 

For  such  is  the  w.aj  in  wiiich  the  apostle  states  the  ques- 
tion of  the  resurrection. 

'  Forasmuch  then  as  we  are  the  offspring  of  God,  we 
ought  not  to  think  that  the  Godhead  is  like  unto  gold,  or 
silver,  or  stone,  graven  by  art  and  man's  device.' 

'  And  the  times  of  this  ignorance  God  wnnked  at ; 
but  now  commandeth  all  men  everywhere  to  repent : ' 

'  Because  He  hath  appointed  a  day,  in  which  He 
will  judge  the  world  in  righteousness  by  that  man 
whom  He  hath  ordained ;  w^hereof  He  hath  given  as- 
surance nnto  all  men,  in  that  He  hath  raised  Him  from 
the  dead.' ' 

The  moral  government  of  God,  the  judgment  of 
God,  and  the  need  of  repentance  to  meet  that  judg- 
ment, are  all  assured  to  us  by  the  fact  of  Christ's  res- 
urrection, which  is  the  type  and  pledge  of  our  resurrec- 
tion also. 

How,  then,  did  the  philosophers  of  Athens  meet  the 
arguments  of  St.  Paul,  of  which  no  doubt  a  mere  out- 
line has  been  preserved  to  us,  but  which  w^ere  evidently 
based  upon  the  fact,  affirmed  and  demonstrated,  of  our 
Lord's  own  resun-ection ?  'When  they  heard  of  the 
resurrection  of  the  dead,'  says  the  same  brief  record, 
'  some  mocked,  and  others  said,  We  will  hear  thee  again 
of  this  matter.' 

I  need  not  say  how  truly  this  concise  statement 
represents  the  way  in  which  the  truths  of  religion  are 
very  commonly  received  by  the  adepts  in  human  wisdom 

'  Acts  xvii.  29-31. 


20  LECTUEE   I. 

in  all  ages :  some  who  are  possessed  by  a  prejudice, 
whose  minds  are  made  up,  who  have  been  long  persuad- 
ed that  there  is  no  new  truth  to  be  discovered,  make  a 
mock,  courteously  perhaps  and  blandly,  of  the  doctrine 
propounded  to  them  ;  others,  touched  at  heart,  distrust- 
ing themselves,  perplexed  and  dubious,  put  off  the  day 
of  conviction,  and  silence  their  uneasy  doubts  by  prom- 
ising to  enquire  further  at  some  future  time.  But  the 
words  of  the  narrative  are  more  remarkable,  as  foreshad- 
owing the  way  in  which  the  revelation  of  Christianity, 
the  keystone  of  which  is  the  doctrine  of  a  future  state, 
would  be  received  generally  in  the  heathen  world,  and 
more  particularly  by  the  philosophers  and  thinkers  aiuong 
the  heathen  ;  how  many,  to  the  last,  w^ould  make  a  mock 
of  it ;  how,  in  the  midst  of  their  own  spiritual  struggles 
and  distresses,  in  all  the  agony  of  their  search  for  spirit- 
ual consolation,  they  would  still  make  pretence  of  deris- 
ion or  defiance  at  the  preaching  of  the  Christian  Resur- 
rection. Nevertheless  others  there  were,  many  there 
were,  at  last  a  majority  there  was,  who  would  hear  again 
of  the  matter.  The  preachers  of  the  gospel  and  of  im- 
mortality, of  God's  justice  and  the  final  retribution, 
would  never  fail  of  listeners  till  the  day  should  come  when 
this  great  doctrine  should  attain  its  triumph,  when  upon 
this  stone,  upon  the  confession  of  this  fundamental  truth, 
the  Church  of  Christ  would  be  established  in  the  Roman 
Empire,  and  the  Truth  as  it  is  in  Christ  Jesus  become 
the  moral  law  of  civilized  men  throughout  the  'inhabit- 
ed world  '  of  the  Greek  or  Roman. 


OBJECT   AND   METHOD   OF   THE   LECTURES.  21 

We  may  take  the  statement  of  the  text,  then,  as  type 
of  the  struggle  between  Paganism  and  Christianity,  and 
of  that  transformation  of  religious  opinion,  by  which 
the  hopes  and  fears  and  spiritual  aspirations  of  the  Ro- 
man world,  at  the  time  of  our  Lord's  appearance  in  the 
flesh,  became  absorbed  in  the  faith  of  Christ — modified, 
purified,  exalted,  expanded.  In  the  Lectures  which  are 
to  follow  I  propose  to  sketch,  as  far  as  opportunity  al- 
lows, the  progress  of  this  transformation,  the  most  sig- 
nal of  all  religious  revolutions.  The  object  of  the 
foundation  of  the  Boyle  Lecture  is  to  assert  the  truth  of 
Christianity  against  unbelievers,  and  it  may  have  been 
usual  to  give  these  discourses  a  controversial  turn,  to 
answer  special  objections  against  the  facts  of  our  relig- 
ion, or  urge  direct  arguments  in  its  defence.  If  I  take 
a  somewhat  different  course  in  setting  forth  a  historical 
survey  of  the  change  of  religious  opinion  among  the 
ancients,  I  believe  I  shall  act  not  less  in  the  spirit  of  my 
instructions.  At  the  present  day,  at  least,  if  I  judge 
rightly  the  temper  of  my  contemporaries,  I  am  more 
likely  to  recommend  the  truth  of  Christianity  by  tracing 
the  progress  of  conviction  in  the  minds  of  men,  than  by 
combating  again  the  old  objections,  or  seeking  weapons 
with  which  to  encounter  the  most  recent,  the  offspring 
generally  of  the  old,  and  bearing  a  strong  resemblance  to 
their  parents. 

Many,  I  think,  are  agreed  that^  after  all,  the  most 
striking  evidence  for  the  Divine  origin  of  our  faith  lies 
in  the  patent  fact  of  its  existence,  of  its  growth  and  dif- 


22  LECTURE   I. 

fusion,  its  proved  superiority  to  all  other  forms  of  spirit- 
ual tliouglit,  its  proved  adaptation  to  all  the  spiritual 
wants  of  man.  jN^othing  can  be  more  interesting,  noth- 
ing can  more  conduce  to  a  just  notion  of  its  claims  on 
our  belief,  than  a  critical  examination  of  the  state  of 
thought  and  opinion  with  which  it  had  to  deal  at  the 
outset,  and  the  nature  of  the  intellectual  struggle  which 
it  carried  on.  It  is  with  this  conviction  that  I  propose 
to  devote  these  Lectures  to  the  consideration  of  that 
spiritual  resurrection,  that  resurrection  of  faith  and 
genuine  piety,  which  marks  the  intellectual  history  of 
the  early  centuries  of  our  era ;  to  dash  at  least  a  few  rap- 
id sketches  of  the  most  salient  features  of  the  controversy 
between  the  wisdom  of  this  world  and  the  Truth  as  it  is 
in  Christ  Jesus. 

One  indulgence  your  lecturer  must  crave.  The  line 
of  enquiry  thus  marked  out  cannot  be  profitably  fol- 
lowed in  these  discourses  without  the  free  use  of  the 
materials  of  secular  history,  without  repeated  reference 
to  the  names  of  men  and  of  places  of  antiquity,  without 
occasional  allusions  to  worldly  customs  and  modes  of 
thought,  without  citation  sometimes  of  secular  books — 
in  short,  not  except  under  the  usual  conditions  of  a 
critical  investigation.  I  must  be  allowed  to  make  these 
addresses,  what  they  are  in  fact  properly  termed, 
Lectures,  rather  than  Sej^mons.  I  must  be  pardoned  if 
the  exposition  of  the  sacred,  text,  or  the  topics  of 
reliffious  exhortation  or  instruction  which  form  the 
usual  staple  of  our  discourses  from  the  pulpit,  give  place 


MEETING   OF   THE   EOMAN   SENATE,  B.  C.  63.  23 

for  the  most  part,  in  my  hands,  to  an  examination  of 
human  opinions  on  matters  of  religious  interest.  For 
these  subjects,  too,  I  beh'eve,  '  are  good  and  j)rofitable 
unto  men.' ' 

The  transition  from  ancient  to  modern  ideas  of 
religion  to  which  I  call  your  attention  extends  over  a 
period  of  three  or  four  centuries:  a  long  period,  no 
doubt,  in  the  history  of  civilized  man ;  a  long  period, 
marked  with  many  changes  of  progress  or  decline  in 
arts  and  inventions,  in  intellectual  interests,  in  literature 
and  science.  In  many  respects  the  fourth  century  of 
Christianity  was  a  different  w^orld  from  the  first  century 
before  it,  though  the  long  interval,  the  wide  chasm,  was 
spanned  by  the  vast  structure  of  the  Roman  Empire, 
the  bridge  of  ages,  one  pier  of  which  rested  on  the  con- 
sulship of  Caesar,  the  other  on  the  despotism  of  Con- 
stantino. But  how  wide  was  the  moral  space  which  di- 
vided the  worshippers  of  Jupiter  on  the  Capitol  from 
the  worshippers  of  Jesus  Christ  at  the  new  Eome  on 
the  Bosphorus  may  be  appreciated  from  the  contrast  of 
two  historical  scenes  which  I  will  now  place  before 
you. 

The  Roman  senators  were  assembled  on  the  fifth  of 
December,  in  the  year  63  before  Christ,  in  the  Temple 
of  Concord,  the  pavement  of  which,  at  the  foot  of  the 
Capitoline  hill,  uncovered  in  modern  times,  serves  us 
even  now  to  realize  vividly  the  scene  and  the  circum- 
stances presented.     The  divinity  to  whom  the  temple  wab 

'  Titus  iii.  8. 


24  LECTUEE   I. 

dedicated  marked  in  itself  a  peculiar  phase  of  the  course 
of  religious  feeling  among  the  Romans ;  for  Concord — a 
mere  moral  abstraction,  a  mere  symbol  of  a  compact  ef- 
fected at  an  earlier  period  between  the  political  orders 
of  the  state — was  not  an  old  popular  creation  of  Italian 
sentiment,  but  eminently  the  invention  of  the  magis- 
trate, introduced  by  law  into  the  national  ritual.  The 
Senate  was  itself  the  minister  of  the  civil  government, 
and  on  this  occasion  it  met  on  the  spot  which  thus  emi- 
nently syvnbolized  the  civil  religion  of  the  Roman  State. 
Nor  less  was  the  Senate  the  minister  of  the  State  relig- 
ion. It  comprehended  in  its  ranks  the  pontiffs,  the  au- 
gurs, and  most  of  the  great  ecclesiastical  officers  of 
Rome.  The  place  in  which  it  held  its  meetings — wher- 
ever the  consul  might  aj^point,  whether  a  temple  or  a 
hall  for  civil  affairs — must  be  consecrated  by  the  observa- 
tion of  the  auspices.  ]!^ever,  then,  were  the  civil  and 
the  religious  character  of  the  Senate  more  conspicuously 
represented  than  when  it  met  in  the  Temple  of  Concord 
to  deliberate  on  the  punishment  due  to  the  greatest  of 
crimes,  political  and  religious,  the  sacrilegious  treason  of 
Catiline  and  his  followers. 

Among  the  senators  convened  on  that  memorable 
day  were  men  of  the  highest  political  renown — men  who 
had  maintained  or  men  who  had  daringly  assailed  the 
traditions  of  government  on  which  the  fortunes  and  the 
fame  of  the  commonwealth  had  for  centuries  rested ; — 
warriors  and  legislators,  patriots  and  demagogues,  lead- 
ers and  partisans,  orators  and  mere  dumb  but  faithful 


C^SAE  8   DENIAL   OF   IMMOETALITY.  25 

voters ;  all  influenced  by  the  strongest  political  feelings, 
most  of  them  absorbed  in  the  great  struggles  of  the  day, 
— enthusiasts,  fanatics, — ready  to  stake  their  fortunes 
and  their  lives  in  assertion  of  their  respective  watch- 
words ; — all  full  of  reminiscences  of  the  great  men  and 
the  great  deeds  of  old  ; — not  a  few  among  them  emulous 
of  ancient  fame,  many  setting  glory  and  honour  and 
duty  high  above  every  sordid  or  selfish  consideration. 
Moreover,  there  were  few  or  none  of  them  who  had  not 
been  trained  in  the  philosophies  of  the  day,  and  accus- 
tomed to  look  with  intelligent  interest  upon  the  prob- 
lems of  human  nature,  and  consider  the  claims  of  the 
higher  spiritual  life,  and  recognize  the  workings  of  man's 
soul  within  him. 

It  was  on  such  an  occasion,  then,  on  such  a  spot,  in 
such  an  assembly,  that  Csesar  pronounced  the  words 
which  have  been  doubtless  faithfully  reported  to  us  by 
no  mean  contemporary  authority — the  words  which  have 
ever  since  been  marked  and  held  in  remembrance  as  the 
manifesto  of  Roman  unbelief  on  the  subject  of  future 
existence. 

'  In  pain  and  misery,'  he  said,  '  death  is  the  release 
from  all  suffering,  not  suffering  itself;  death  dissolves 
all  the  ills  of  mortality  ;  beyond  it  is  no  place  either  for 
pain  or  pleasure.  Wherefore,'  such  was  his  argument, 
'  keep  these  criminals  alive,  to  suffer  a  fitting  penalty ; 
after  death  there  is  no  more  punishment  for  sin,  neither 
is  there  any  reward  for  virtue.'  Cassar  himself,  the  chief 
pontiff,  the  highest  functionary  of  the  State-religion,  the 


26  LECTUKE   I. 

chosen  interpreter  of  Divine  things  to  the  national  con- 
science, declared  peremptorily  that  there  is  no  such 
thing  as  retribution  beyond  the  grave,  no  future  state 
of  consciousness,  no  immortality  of  the  soul.  To  him 
replied  the  grave  and  virtuous  Cato,  the  devoted  servant 
of  his  country,  her  laws  and  institutions ;  the  most  reg- 
ular observer  of  the  traditions  of  his  class  and  order ; 
the  most  religious  man,  I  may  say,  at  Home,  inasmuch 
as,  of  all  the  Romans  of  his  day,  there  was  none  who 
set  before  himself  so  high  a  rule  of  life  or  so  strictly 
kept  it ;  a  man  whose  aim  it  was  to  '  fulfil  all  righteous- 
ness '  in  the  sense  in  which  righteousness  would  present 
itself  to  him — a  man,  I  will  add,  with  a  nearer  sense 
of  a  personal  inspiration,  of  the  indwelling  of  a  divine 
spirit,  than  any  heathen,  except  perhaps  one  or  two 
only,  with  whom  we  are  acquainted : — to  him  Cato 
replied,  following  and  refuting,  closely  and  gravely,  all 
his  political  arguments,  but  passing  by  this  remarkable 
expression  with  just  one  sentence  of  what  looks  like  pol- 
ished banter,  just  enough  to  indicate  a  humourist's  sense 
(for  Cato  too  was  a  humourist)  of  the  curious  incongruity 
of  such  a  sentiment  in  sucli  a  mouth ; — but  so  lightly,  so 
perfunctorily,  as  plainly  to  show  how  little  there  was  in 
it  to  alarm  the  religious  feeling  of  the  audience,  or  to 
disgust  the  religious  convictions  of  the  speaker  himself. 
But  another  great  man  took  j)art  also  in  the  debate ; 
another  orator  remarked  on  the  daring  assertion  of 
Ccesar — daring,  as  with  our  habits  of  thought  we  can 
hardly  refrain  from  calling  it,  though  in  the  minds  of 


DENIAL  THEN  GENERAL  AMONG  THE  HEATHENS.    27 

the  Roman  senators  there  was  clearly  no  daring  in  it 
at  all.  Cicero,  the  most  consummate  adept  in  the  doc- 
trines of  the  philosophical  schools,  the  man  who  of  all 
his  order  could  most  exactly  weigh  the  amount  of  appro- 
bation which  the  denial  of  immortality  would  then  and 
there  carry  with  it — Cicero  also,  I  say,  refers  to  Caesar's 
assertion,  not  as  caring  to  give  his  own  assent  or  dissent 
upon  the  question,  but  leaving  it  perfectly  open  to  the 
learned  or  the  pious,  to  the  statesman  and  legislator,  the 
pontiff  and  ahgur,  to  embrace  or  repudiate  it  as  he 
pleases.  We  read  of  no  further  discussion  upon  tlie  point, 
upon  this  blank  negation  of  all  spiritual  faith  and  liope ; 
the  historian  takes  no  personal  notice  of  it ;  no  writer 
of  antiquity  alludes  again  to  it ;  it  passes  as  a  matter  of 
general  indifference.  Such,  in  short,  is  the  tone  of  sen- 
timent among  the  highest  intelligences  of  the  day  at 
Rome,  in  the  centmy  next  before  the  coming  of  Christ, 
that  the  belief  in  a  future  state  of  retribution — the  very 
foundation,  as  we  regard  it,  of  all  true  and  rational  re- 
ligion— is  allowed  to  be  made  an  open  question,  to  be 
treated  as  hardly  worth  question  at  all,  in  the  gravest  of 
assemblies,  on  the  gravest  of  all  public  occasions.^  Such 
was  their  proud  devotion  to  the  false  show  of  this  world 
to  the  glories  of  a  worldwide  dominion,  the  enjoyments 
of  a  voluptuous  luxury,  the  flatteries  of  a  complacent 
literature;  such  their  judicial  blindness  to  tlie  future, 
with  all  its  aspirations  and  its  terrors,  its  rewards  and  its 
punishments. 

'  See  Note  A. 


28  LECTURE   I. 

But '  blessed  be  the  God  and  Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  which  according  to  His  abundant  mercy  hath  be- 
gotten us  again  unto  a  lively  hope  by  the  resurrection  of 
Jesus  Christ  from  the  dead.' ' 

For  let  the  clouds  of  time  settle  upon  the  scene  be- 
fore us,  and  when  the  mist  clears  up  let  us  find  ourselves 
transported  in  imagination  four  centuries  onwards,  from 
Italy  to  Asia  Minor,  from  Eome  to  the  provincial  city 
of  Nicffia,  from  the  Temple  of  Concord  beneath  the 
Capitol  to  a  public  hall  of  state  over  against  the  destined 
site  of  a  second  Home  on  the  Bosphorus.  How  changed 
is  the  scene  which  now  meets  our  eyes  ;  how  changed — 
yet  in  some  marked  circumstances  how  like  to  the  old 
scene  renewed  ?  The  place  of  meeting  is  no  longer  a 
temple,  but  a  town-hall  or  a  palace ;  the  government 
there  enthroned  is  no  longer  a  commonwealth,  but  an 
imperial  autocracy ;  the  men  assembled  before  us  in 
their  robes  of  dignity  and  their  ensigns  of  office, — the 
pallium  for  the  toga,  the  crooked  staff  for  the  ivory 
sceptre, — are  no  longer  senators  but  bishops ;  not  fathers 
of  patrician  households,  and  rulers  of  provinces  and 
legions,  but  fathers  of  the  Church,  elders  of  a  spiritual 
congregation,  abounding  in  exhortation  and  teaching,  in- 
terpreting a  rule  of  faith  and  practice,  holding  fast  an 
already  ancient  ecclesiastical  tradition.  The  ideas  of 
the  time,  indeed,  are  changed  :  the  faith  and  usages  of 
the  people  have  undergone  a  marvellous  transformation. 
The  matter  in  debate  in  the  assembly  to  which  the  gravest 

'  Peter  i.  3. 


THE   COUNCIL   OF   NIC^A,    A.  D.    325.  29 

affair  of  state  is  now  committed  is  not  a  question  of  po- 
litical emergency,  of  foreign  levy  or  domestic  treason, 
but  of  the  deepest  spiritual  significance  ;  the  Council  of 
Nice  is  met  together  to  fix  tlie  creed  of  Christendom  on 
a  point  of  religious  dogma,  to  close  up  an  intellectual 
schism,  and  settle  the  faith  of  men  on  an  everlasting 
foundation. 

The  chief  who  summons  this  council  of  Christian 
bishops  is  still  the  highest  guardian  of  the  national  ritual, 
the  head  of  the  Church  upon  earth,  but  he  comes  not  to 
prescribe  his  own  views  on  points  of  religious  faith,  but 
to  collect  the  suffrages  of  its  recognized  expounders,  the 
depositaries  of  three  centuries  of  interpretation  and  tra- 
dition, the  chief  pastors  of  the  Christian  congregations 
scattered  over  the  face  of  the  empire  and  even  beyond  it. 

For  there  too  were  assembled,  not  the  denizens  of 
one  imperial  city,  descending  from  tlieir  mansions  on  the 
seven  hills  into  the  Roman  forum,  but,  in  the  words  of 
the  great  historian  of  the  crisis,  "the  most  eminent 
among  God's  ministers  of  all  those  Churches  which  filled 
all  Europe,  Libya,  and  Asia.  And  one  sacred  oratory," 
he  continues,  "  enlarged  as  it  were  by  God  Himself,  en- 
closed within  its  walls  both  Syrians  and  Cilicians,  Phoe- 
nicians and  Arabians,  Palestinians  and  Egyptians  also, 
Thebieans  and  Libyans,  and  those  that  come  forth  of 
Mesopotamia.  There  was  present  also  at  this  synod  a 
Persian  bishop,  neither  was  the  Scythian  absent  from  the 
quii'e.     Moreover,  there   appeared  here  Thracians  and 


30  LECTTTRE   I. 

Macedonians,  Acliaians  and  Epirotes,  and  sucli  as  dwelt 
far  beyond  these  met  nevertheless  together." ' 

And  he  goes  on,  as  you  might  anticipate,  to  compare 
this  varied  assemblage  to  the  multitude  of  many  nations 
that  were  gathered  together  on  the  day  of  Pentecost ;  a 
meeting  inferior  indeed,  as  he  hints,  to  this  in  interest, 
for  that  was  composed,  for  the  most  part  of  laymen  and 
neophytes,  but  this  of  ministers  and  teachers  only. 

The  interest  and  importance,  indeed,  of  this  famous 
synod,  it  requires  no  theologian's  rhetoric  to  magnify. 
Viewed  as  an  event  of  human  history  only,  dull  indeed 
must  be  the  imagination  which  does  not  see  in  the  Coun- 
cil of  Nicsea  an  incident  of  the  deepest  significance,  the 
first  launching  of  a  vast  spiritual  engine  on  its  career  of 
conquest  and  dominion.  However  variously  we  may  es- 
timate the  morals  and  intellect  of  the  age,  we  cannot 
doubt  that  it  was  represented  at  this  council  by  its  best, 
its  ablest,  and  its  most  intelligent.  Whatever  judgment 
polemics  may  hold  of  the  soundness  of  tlie  ecclesiastical 
traditions  then  current,  there  can  be  no  question  but  that 
at  that  council  they  were  faithfully  expounded  and  fully 
developed.  Whatever  value  some  modern  thinkers  may 
set  upon  the  abstruse  dogmas  which  came  under  discus- 
sion in  it,  it  is  allowed  that  in  these  dogmas  lay  the 
breath  of  all  spiritual  life  at  the  period  ;  and  especially 
the  question  of  the  Divine  Son's  relation  to  the  Father, 
then  elaborately  defined,  was  a  question  of  life  and  death 
for  the  scheme  of  theology  then  established,  and  ever 

'  Eusebius  Pamphilus,  Life  of  Constandne,  iii.  7. 


CHAKACTER   OF   THE   BISHOPS   ASSEMBLED.  31 

since  maintained  in  preeminence  in  the  Churcli  of  Christ. 
Nor  can  we  dispute  that,  if  such  transcendent  mysteries 
can  ever  be  profitably  subjected  to  the  test  of  critical  dis- 
cussion, there  were  men  there  met  together  of  every  tem- 
per, of  manifold  habits  of  thought,  of  various  mental  as- 
sociations, of  various  intellectual  powers ;  some  trustwor- 
thy as  witnesses  to  traditional  usage,  some  respectable 
for  their  personal  experiences,  some  to  be  admired  for 
their  keenness  and  subtilty,  some  to  be  revered  for  their 
illustrious  piety  ;  and  that  in  such  hands  the  subject  in 
debate  received  as  full  and  as  worthy  treatment  as  it  has 
ever  been  capable  of  among  men.' 

The  bishops,  318  in  number,  who  met  on  this  solemn 
occasion,  had  all  been  swept  over  by  the  last  storm  of  im- 
perial persecution,  the  agitation  of  which  had  hardly  yet 
subsided.  Known  to  each  other  hitherto  by  the  record 
of  their  trials  and  endurance  only,  they  now  met  for  a 
moment  upon  earth,  trusting  to  be  united  finally 
in  heaven — the  witnesses  to  the  faith  in  Rome  and 
Antioch,  at  Treves  and  at  Carthage ;  witnesses  to  the 
same  faith,  the  same  law,  the  same  sacraments,  the  same 
Lord  and  Master  of  them  all.  The  most  illustrious 
were  soon  distinguished  :  some  were  betokened  by  their 
strange  dress  and  habits,  some  by  their  well-known 
reputation  for  zeal  or  for  learning,  some  by  the  wounds 
and  scars  of  their  noble  confession.  Paphnutius,  a  con- 
fessor from  the  Thebaid,  who  asserted  the  riglit  of  the 
clergy  to  the  society  of  their  wives,  had  been  blinded 

'  Socrates,  History  of  the  Church,  i.  6. 


^ 


32  LECTURE   I. 

and  maimed  in  the  leg ;  Paul  of  Neocjesarea  was 
crippled  by  torture  in  the  hand.  Ascetics  from  the 
Upper  Egypt  were  clothed  in  the  wild  raiment  of  the 
Baptist ;  they  had  wandered  forth  in  sheepskins  and 
goatskins,  they  had  dwelt  in  deserts  and  on  mountains, 
in  dens  and  caves  of  the  earth.  The  childlike  simplicity 
of  the  j)rimitive  ages  was  instanced  in  Spiridion,  the 
village  bishop  of  Cyprus — the  prototype,  it  would  seem, 
of  the  model  prelate  of  a  recent  fiction, — who,  when  bri- 
gands robbed  him  of  his  sheep,  rebuked  them  meekly 
for  not  haviug  rather  asked  him  for  them.  The  learning 
of  the  clerical  order,  which  could  compare  with  that  of 
the  Pagan  orators  and  sophists,  was  represented  among 
others  by  Eustathius  and  the  two  Eusebiuses ;  while 
for  age  and  venerable  bearing  none  were  more  remark- 
able than  the  Spanish  prelate  Hosius,  and  Alexander 
the  patriarch  of  Alexandria.  While  again  the  neology 
of  the  period,  and  the  leanings  of  secular  learning 
towards  notions  which  sprang  from  the  lurking  heathen- 
ism of  the  heart,  found  their  artful  expounder  in  the 
arch-heretic  Arius,  the  real  doctrine  of  the  Church,  such 
as  it  claimed  ta  have  been  from  the  beginning,  and  such 
as  it  has  been  maintained  for  fifteen  centuries  onwards, 
was  defended,  above  all  others,  with  the  keenest  logic, 
with  the  most  ardent  rhetoric,  and  with  indomitable 
energy,  by  the  mighty  Athanasius, — he  who  not  long 
after  stood  alone,  as  it  was  said,  against  the  world,  and 
triumphed.  The  intellectual  excitement  of  the  day  was 
not  unfelt  even  by  the  heathens  themselves  j  and  many 


constanttne's  position  ljt  the  council.  33 

distinguislied  adlierents  of  the  old  religion  came, — some 
scoffing,  some  trembling,  all  wondering, — to  liear  how 
the  Church  of  Christ,  that  strange  confederation  which 
had  vanquished  them  at  last  after  three  centuries  of  con- 
flict, would  solve  the  most  awful  questions  which  the 
human  mind  can  encounter.  These  strangers  to  the  faith 
were  not  indeed  admitted  to  the  scene  of  the  sacred  confer- 
ence, but  thev  hovered  anxiously  around  it,  and  convers- 
ed from  time  to  time  with  the  members  as  they  passed  in 
or  out,  and  were  admonished  sometimes  with  compassion, 
sometimes  with  yearning  love,  sometimes  with  grave  and 
authoritative  rebuke  ;  and  if  some  still  mocked,  and  some 
hesitated  and  said, '  We  will  hear  thee  again  on  this  mat- 
ter,' others  there. were  who  were  conscience-stricken  and 
converted  on  the  spot,  and  the  Holy  Spirit  added  unto 
the  Church  daily  such  as  should  be  saved. 

The  Synod  was  assembled,  every  man  in  his  place, 
when  the  Emperor  Constantino  entered,  arrayed  in  gold 
and  pui'ple,  and  strode  with  his  guards  around  him  to 
the  top  of  the  Hall,  where,  standing  for  a  moment  be- 
fore a  golden  throne,  he  looked  hesitatingly  around,  as 
if  to  ask  peiTnission  to  be  seated.  When  he  took  his 
seat  all  the  ecclesiastics  sat  down  likewise,  according  to 
the  tradition  of  the  Eoman  Senate,  all  the  members  of 
which  were  virtually  equal.  Then  the  Emperor  rose  and 
addressed  the  assembly  in  a  set  harangue,  explaining  the 
main  object  of  their  summons,  using  '  for  the  majesty  of 
the  empire,'  as  his  predecessors  would  have  phrased  it, 
the  sonorous  tongue  of  Latiura.     '  When  by  the  assent,' 


34  LECTURE   I. 

he  said,  '  and  the  aid  of  the  Ahnighty,  I  had  triumphed 
over  my  enemies,  I  hoped  that  I  had  nothing  more  to  do 
than  to  give  thanks  to  God,  and  to  rejoice  with  those  whom 
He  had  delivered  by  my  hand.  But  as  soon  as  I  heard 
of  the  division  existing  among  you,  I  judged  it  to  be  a 
pressing  matter,  which  I  must  not  neglect ;  and  desiring 
also  to  apply  some  remedy  to  this  new  evil,  I  have  called 
you  together  without  delay,  and  great  is  my  satisfaction 
in  being  present  at  your  meeting.'  With  these,  and 
such  words  as  these,  full  of  goodwill  to  the  Church,  its 
chiefs,  and  its  concerns,  but  without  venturing  even  to 
propound  the  subjects  to  which  he  invited  discussion,  did 
Constantine  open  that  memorable  council ;  giving  the 
sanction  of  the  highest  civil  authority  to  debates  which 
ranged  over  topics  of  the  deepest  spiritual  significance  ; 
setting  the  first  precedent  in  recorded  history,  however 
moderate  and  reserved,  of  the  action  of  a  regal  suprem- 
acy in  matters  ecclesiastical ;  giving  the  first  fulfilment 
to  the  prophecy,  that  kings  should  be  tlie  fathers  of  the 
Church,  and  queens  her  nursing  mothers.  Deep  indeed 
must  have  been  the  interest  of  the  civilized  world,  Chris- 
tian and  Pagan,  lay  and  clerical,  learned  and  unlearned, 
noble  and  plebeian,  in  the  questions  which  then  agitated 
the  Christian  Church,  when  the  deliberations  of  this  new 
senate,  of  this  novel  confederation  of  the  civil  and  eccle- 
siastical powers,  of  the  emperor  and  the  bishops,  of  the 
State  and  the  Church,  issued  in  the  promulgation  of 
a  solemn  rule  of  faith,  of  that  form  of  sound  words  which 
has  been  recited  daily  in  the  Church  for  fifteen  centuries, 


PEOMULGATION   OF   THE   NICENE   CREED.  35 

and  still  is  recited  witli  awe  and  veneration  among  us — 
the  illustrious  creed  of  Nicsea.  A  few  years,  as  we  have 
seen,  before  the  incarnation  of  Jesus  Christ,  the  Roman 
senators  listened  without  shame  or  shuddering  to  the  utter 
denial  of  man's  spiritual  being  from  the  mouth  of  their 
sovereign  Pontiff.  Three  hundred  years  after  His  resur- 
rection, an  assembly  of  priests,  the  august  successor  of 
that  incredulous  Synod,  deliberately  aflSrmed  the  most 
mysterious  dogmas  of  revealed  religion.  '  "We  believe,' 
it  said,  '  in  one  God,  the  Father  Almighty,  Maker  of  all 
things  visible  and  invisible ;  And  in  one  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
the  Son  of  God,  of  the  same  substance  with  the  Fa- 
ther, by  whom  all  things  were  made :  Who  for  us  men,  and 
for  our  salvation,  came  down  from  Heaven,  and  was  in- 
carnate and  was  made  man,  suffered  and  rose  again  the 
third  day.  He  ascended  into  Heaven,  He  shall  come 
again  to  judge  botli  the  quick  and  the  dead : ' — And  fur- 
ther, '  We  believe  in  the  Holy  Ghost,  the  Lord  and  Giver 
of  life :  and  in  the  Remission  of  Sins,  the  Resurrection 
of  the  Body,  and  the  Life  everlasting.' ' 

Here  there  are  two  great  facts  set  before  you :  an 
immense  revolution  in  human  thought  has  been  effected, 
a  vast  transformation  of  human  feelino;.  Such  change 
was  not  wrought  upon  the  spot,  not  by  a  single  mirac- 
ulous stroke  of  Providence,  not  by  a  momentary  decree 
of  the  Almighty,  as  when  He  said  to  chaos,  '  Let  there 
be  light,  and  there  was  light ; '  as  when  He  said  to  Saul 
of  Tarsus,  'I  am  Jesus  whom  thou  persecutest.'     If  the 

'  See  Note  B. 


36  LECTURE   I. 

conversion  of  the  individual  soul  is  rarely  sudden  and 
immediate,  still  more  rare — still  less,  I  may  say,  possible 
— is  the  immediate  conversion  of  a  people.  No  ;  there 
was  an  interval  of  four  centuries,  crowded  with  move- 
ments of  changes  outward  and  inward ;  all  slow  and 
gradual,  and  following  justly  one  from  another : — the 
falling  away  of  many  prejudices ;  the  scaling  oif  of 
many  folds  of  inveterate  error ;  the  raising  up  of  many 
footholds  of  truth  and  faith.  There  was  life  in  death, 
energy  in  decay,  rejuvenescence  in  decrepitude.  The 
human  mind  continued  to  work  by  its  old  accustomed 
methods,  but  those  methods  of  thought  were  themselves 
of  God's  original  appointment;  the  Holy  Spirit  had 
brooded  over  their  creation,  and  guided  them  gently  to 
the  end  which  to  Him  was  present  from  the  beginning. 
Let  us  seek,  with  His  blessed  aid  and  enlightenment,  to 
trace  in  these  Lectures  the  mode  of  this  spiritual  revolu- 
tion, this  conversion  of  the  Koman  Empire,  of  the  civil- 
ized world  of  antiquity,  of  the  natural  human  intellect 
in  the  pride  of  its  highest  acquirements,  from  a  denial 
of  the  first  principle  of  positive  belief  to  the  assertion 
of  an  entire  system  of  revealed  religion. 


LECTURE  II. 

HEATHEN    BELIEF  .DIRECTED   TOWAKDS  A  TEMPORAL  PROVI- 
DENCE. 

Acts  xvii.  22, 

Then  Paul  stood  in  the  midst  of  Mars''  hill,  and  said,  Ye  men  of 
Athens,  I  perceive  that  in  all  things  ye  are  too  superstitious. 

There  is  no  need  on  the  present  occasion  to  discuss 
critically  tlie  meaning  of  the  word  here  rendered  '  super- 
stitious,' nor  of  the  fact  from  which  the  apostle  particu- 
larly infers  it  of  the  Athenians,  when  he  adds,  '  For  as  I 
passed  by,  and  beheld  your  devotions,  I  found  an  altar 
with  this  inscription.  To  the  unknown  God.'  We  will 
take  the  phrase  '  too  superstitious,'  or  literally  '  god  or 
spirit  fearing,'  to  mean,  excessively  addicted  to  the  wor- 
ship of  supernatural  powers,  overprone  to  believe  in  and 
tremble  before  the  influence  of  invisible  existences,  ca- 
pricious or  perverse  in  the  apprehension  of  God's  nature, 
and  of  the  nature  of  His  divine  rule  and  providence. 
Superstition,  as  here  spoken  of,  seems  to  be  an  excess  or 
extravagant  conception  of  religion  :  it  is  the  fanatic  is- 
sue of  human  thoughts  on  subjects  too  pure,  too  sub- 
lime, and  too  holy  for  human  nature,  unenlightened 


38  LECTUEE  n. 

from  above,  to  tliink  of  duly  or  worthily.  Nevertheless, 
even  such  superstition  does  bear  in  a  certain  measure 
the  character  of  religious  belief ;  it  is  grounded  upon  the 
same  fundamental  principle — the  apprehension  of  a  spir- 
itual world. 

Now  I  would  have  you  observe  the  juxtaposition  of 
the  religious  feeling  here  ascribed  to  the  Athenians  with 
the  mocking  denial,  or  at  best,  the  timid  and  doubtful 
anticipation  of  a  future  state  which  is  imputed  to  them 
in  what  presently  follows :  '  And  when  they  heard  of  the 
resurrection  of  the  dead,  some  mocked  :  and  others  said, 
"We  will  hear  thee  again  of  this  matter ' — a  text  on 
which  I  enlarged  in  my  last  Lecture,  to  show  the  imper- 
fect apprehension  or  popular  denial  of  a  future  retri- 
bution in  the  heathen  world.  Compare  these  two  pas- 
sages, and  it  will  plainly  appear,  that  in  St.  Paul's  view 
the  same  people  might  have,  and  indeed  actually  had, 
a  keen  and  conscious  apprehension  of  a  Divine  govern- 
ment, together  with  a  direct  renunciation  of  the  doctrine 
of  a  future  retribution.  I  need  not  say  how  utterly  this 
is  inconsistent  with  the  idea  we  as  Christians  entertain 
of  religion.  "We  Christians,  trained  from  father  to  son 
in  the  teaching  of  Scripture,  cannot,  I  imagine,  divorce 
the  two  ideas.  We  cannot  contemplate  for  oui*selves, 
hardly  can  we  conceive  in  others,  the  idea  of  religious 
belief, — of  belief  in  God  as  a  moral  ruler,  and  in  His 
providential  government  of  the  world, — apart  from  the 
conviction  of  judgment  hereafter.  The  famous  paradox 
of  Warburton  is  founded  upon  this  conviction,  upon  this 


MODIFICATION    OF    HEATHEN    BELIEF.  39 

instinctive  assurance,  as  he  maintained  it  to  be,  that  be- 
lief in  Providence  cannot  ordinarily  subsist,  that  it  can- 
not certainly  be  maintained  among  men  in  society,  with- 
out a  belief  in  a  future  state  of  rewards  and  punish- 
ments. The  omission  of  this  cardinal  doctrine,  as  he 
argued,  in  the  Mosaic  economy,  formed  a  conclusive 
demonstration  that  the  law  of  Moses  was  no  invention 
of  the  mere  human  mind ;  so  manifestly,  in  his  view, 
does  such  omission  contravene  the  first  principles  of  hu- 
man reasoning  on  the  subject  of  religion. 

I  perceive  well  enough  the  apparent  presumption  in 
favour  of  such  a  theory.  I  felt  myself  authorized  to  de- 
clare in  my  last  Lecture  that  the  open  denial  of  immor- 
tality in  the  Roman  Senate  implied  a  general  repudiation 
of  a  fundamental  principle  of  religion.  I  contrasted  this 
repudiation  with  the  assertion  of  Christian  dogma  at  the 
first  of  the  great  Christian  councils,  to  mark,  at  one 
glance,  the  entire  space  of  the  chasm  which  separated 
the  one  age  from  the  other,  the  heathen  from  the  Chris- 
tian, the  Roman  Empire  from  the  City  of  God.  Here 
we  see,  indeed,  two  great  forces  arrayed  against  each  oth- 
er— Belief  and  Unbelief. 

Such,  at  least,  is  the  broad  and  general  view  of  the 
case  presented  to  us.  But  let  us  look  a  little  closer,  and 
see  whether  the  condition  of  the  heathen  mind  was  alto- 
gether negative  in  religious  matters.  Did  the  heathen 
deny  all  obligations,  all  objects  of  religious  faith,  in  re- 
pudiating the  cardinal  principle  of  a  future  retribution  '( 
Can  a  man  have  no  apprehension  of  a  God  because  he 


40  LECTUEE   II. 

has  no  appreliension  of  immortality?  Our  text  points 
to  a  different  conclusion.  The  Athenians,  little  as  they 
certainly  regarded  a  future  life,  were  even  too  supersti- 
tious ;  full  of  a  strong  apprehension  of  unknown  supe- 
rior powers,  they  were  blind  and  mean  and  gross  in  their 
conception  of  them.  And  the  same  might  be  shown 
equally  of  the  Romans. 

The  heathen,  as  St.  Paul  says,  were  to  be  left  without 
excuse,  and  therefore  the  eternal  power  and  Godhead, 
at  least,  of  the  Deity  were  made  manifest  to  their  hearts 
by  the  inner  witness  of  the  conscience.  Though  they 
glorified  not  God  in  their  acts,  nor  even  in  the  justness 
and  purity  of  their  notions,  yet  they  knew  God  so  far 
as  to  apprehend  the  fact  of  His  Being,  His  Power,  and 
His  Providence. 

I  repeat  that,  speaking  broadly,  the  heathen  of  Greece 
and  Eome,  at  least  the  intelligent  classes  among  them — 
all  above  the  common  herd,  the  women  and  children — 
had  no  real  belief  in  a  future  state.  I  speak  not  of  the 
teaching  or  the  private  aspirations  of  a  few  philosophers, 
of  which  more  may  be  said  hereafter.  Nor  need  I  spend 
words  in  showing  that  the  vulgar  mythology,  with 
its  Hades  and  Olympus,  its  Tartarean  blackness  and 
Elysian  sunshine,  was  an  exploded  and  despised  tradi- 
tion. Whatever  hankering  after  a  positive  belief  on 
matters  of  such  awful  interest  might  linger  in  men's  hopes 
and  fears,  and  find  utterance  here  and  there  in  their  pop- 
ular literature,  there  was  no  real  and  living  faith  in  such 
things :  no  intelligent  man  would  have  publicly  acknowl- 


BELIEF   IN   BEING   AND  PROVIDENCE   OF   GOD.  41 

edged  any  such  anticipations,  no  priest  or  preacher  was 
appointed  to  teach  them  dogmatically ;  the  rewards  and 
punishments  of  a  future  state,  as  far  as  such  a  state  pre- 
tended to  he  revealed,  liad  become  no  more  than  mere 
poetic  machinery.' 

The  heathens,  then,  had  no  popular  belief  in  a  future 
retribution.  Nevertheless,  they  had  their  temples,  and 
their  altars ;  their  gods  were  represented  by  images,  and 
service  was  done  to  them  by  priests  and  ministers.  A 
comprehensive  and  intricate  ritual  prescribed  the  names 
and  characters  of  hundreds  of  divinities,  specified  their 
various  attributes  and  functions,  interpreted  their  will, 
interceded  for  their  favour.  '  He  that  cometh  to  God,' 
says  the  Christian  Scripture,  speaking  of  mankind  gene- 
rally, '  must  believe  that  He  is,  and  that  He  is  a  reward- 
er  of  them  that  diligently  seek  Him.' "  This  is  the  uni- 
versal and  fundamental  condition  of  religious  belief. 
If  the  heathens  of  Rome  did  thus  come  to  God,  even  to 
a  God  of  their  own  imaginations,  with  religious  service, 
however  blind  and  carnal,  they  did  then  assuredly  be- 
lieve in  the  Being  of  God,  a  God  of  power  and  intelli- 
gence; and  did  apprehend  in  some  way,  however  faintly 
and  imperfectly,  the  fact  of  His  providential  oversight 
of  man.  And  accordingly  the  Gospel  had  to  combat  not 
a  mere  blank  negation  of  all  belief,  but  a  living  and  sub- 
stantive principle  of  religion. 

Let  me  then  first  place  clearly  before  you  the  fact 
that  this  religious  service  was  really  made  a  matter  of 

'  See  Note  C.  ^  Heb.  xi.  6. 


42  LECTURE   n. 

conscience,  enjoined  and  enforced  by  ecclesiastical  author- 
ities, accepted  and  acknowledged  by  the  heart  and  under 
standing  of  the  worshippers. 

We  read  how,  not  many  years  after  the  above-men- 
tioned debate  in  the  Koman  Senate,  the  factions  of  the 
Kepublic  culminated  in  a  great  political  apostasy.  An 
impious  son  raised  his  hand  against  his  parent's  bosom. 
The  crossing  of  the  Rubicon,  the  march  of  Csesar  upon 
Rome,  was  denounced  as  an  act,  not  of  rebellion  only, 
but  of  impiety  and  schism.  It  must  be  met  witli  human 
arms  indeed,  but  before  human  arms  w^ere  tried,  or  while 
human  arms  were  being  tried,  it  might  be  met  also  with 
a  solemn  religious  ceremony — by  an  act  of  lustration,  of 
expiation,  of  national  humiliatiou  before  the  insulted 
powers  of  the  other  world.  Policy  and  religion  joined 
hand  in  hand.  The  Consul  takes  counsel  with  the 
Pontiff ;  the  Philosopher  enquires  of  the  Augur ;  they 
revolve  the  ancient  books,  and  resort  to  the  prescribed 
usages,  and  marshal  with  one  accord  a  long  procession 
of  priests  and  statesmen,  of  magistrates  and  citizens,  of 
Yestals,  Salians,  and  Flamens,  to  stalk  around  the  sacred . 
inclosure  of  the  city,  and  purge  its  dwellings  with  a  holy 
lustration.  The  wdiole  population,  in  an  access  of  super- 
stitious fervour,  is  moved  to  appease  the  national  divini- 
ties by  an  act  of  national  devotion.  Men  and  women, 
young  and  old,  the  learned  and  the  vulgar,  unite  in  this 
solemn  function  with  a  common  will  and  conscience. 
How  far  they  believed  in  the  idols  to  which  they  bowed 
themselves ;  how  far  they  duped  one  another  ;  how  far 


REVIVAL    OF   RELIGIOUS   USAGE.  43 

they  were  duped  themselves,  who  shall  say  ?  The  scene 
itself  stands  before  us,  a  great  and  impressive  fact,  a  fact 
surely  not  without  a  meaning.  The  mighty  multitude 
of  the  greatest  of  cities,  in  an  age  when  none  believed 
in  a  resurrection,  none  regarded  a  future  retribution,  was 
moved  by  a  common  impulse  to  make  this  striking  dem- 
onstration of  its  religious  instincts  and  spiritual  convic- 
tions. We  cannot  shut  our  eyes  to  the  fact.  Whatever 
abatement  we  may  make  from  the  entire  genuineness  of 
the  sentiment  by  which  this  multitude  was  animated, 
we  must  alloAV  that  there  did  exist,  even  at  this  time, 
among  the  heathen  at  Rome  a  principle  of  religious 
belief.  Christianity,  I  say,  had  a  real  living  enemy  to 
encounter.' 

But  this,  it  may  be  urged,  was  a  sudden  outburst  of 
feeling,  a  paroxysm  of  alarm,  a  transient  panic  of  unre- 
flecting superstition.  'Not  so  :  we  may  judge  of  its  depth 
and  reality  from  the  marked  revival  of  religious  usage, 
and  apparently  of  actual  persuasion,  which  ensued  in 
the  next  generation.  The  conviction  of  the  existence 
of  Powers  unseen,  on  whose  due  propitiation  the  safety 
of  the  State  (in  which  was  enwrapped  the  safety  of  every 
citizen)  depended,  was  still  deeply  rooted  in  the  heart 
of  the  Roman  even  of  this  latter  age.  Choked  it  might 
be,  and  stifled  amid  the  cares  of  government ;  forgotten 
it  might  be  in  the  turmoil  of  war ;  it  might  be  thrust 
contemptuously  aside  in  the  flush  of  victory  and  triumph, 
in  the  selfish  enjoyment  of  success,  amid  the  orgies  of 
'  See  Note  D, 


44:  LECTUKE   H. 

sensual  luxury ;  nevertheless,  the  stress  of  circumstances 
might  at  any  time  revive  it,  the  call  of  an  astute  or  ardent 
ruler  might  evoke  it.  When  the  religious  principle  among 
the  Jews  of  the  olden  time  had  been  perverted  by  evil 
influences,  they  had  fallen  away  tx)  the  snares  most  tempt- 
ing to  their  peculiar  weaknesses,  to  the  idolatries  and  har- 
lotries of  Edom  and  of  Moab.  The  Eomans,  when  the 
same  principle  was  corrupted  among  them,  surrendered 
themselves  to  the  charm  of  their  most  seductive  neigh- 
bours, the  Greeks,  and  the  love  of  the  gods  of  the  Capi- 
tol waxed  cold  under  the  spell  of  sceptics,  i-ationalists,  and 
philosophers.  But  among  both  Jews  and  Romans  the 
religious  sentiment  was  again  and  again  revived.  The 
process  was  alike  in  both  cases  ;  the  history  seems  to  re- 
peat itself.  The  example  or  command  of  pious  kings 
effected  more  than  once  a  religious  revival  in  Israel  and 
Judah.  Asa  and  Hezekiah  removed  the  high  places  and 
brake  down  the  images,  and  restored  the  worship  of  the 
God  of  their  fathers.  The  people  followed  in  their  steps 
and  turned  again  to  the  service  of  Jehovah.  '  And  Jo- 
siah,'  we  read,  '  stood  by  a  pillar,  and  made  a  covenant 
before  the  Lord,  to  walk  after  the  Lord,  and  to  keep  His 

commandments And  all  the  people  stood  to  the 

covenant.'  *  Such  were  the  acts  of  the  good  kings,  in- 
fluenced by  pure  religious  feeling,  prompting  them  to 
please  God  by  their  own  conversion,  urging  them  to  lead 
their  people  to  propitiate  Him  by  a  willing  service. 
But  Jehu,  again,  is  an  instance  of  a  wicked  king,  a  pol- 

'  2  Kings  xxiji.  3. 


REVIVAL   OF   RELIGION    UNDEE   AUGUSTUS.  45 

itic  and  selfish  man,  impelled  by  mixed  and  impure  mo- 
tives of  gain,  of  fear,  or  statecraft,  to  put  on  a  show  of 
godliness,  to  effect  an  imperfect  and  one-sided  reforma- 
tion. '  Thus  Jehu  destroyed  Baal  out  of  Israel,  while  at 
the  same  time  he  did  not  himself  depart  from  the  sin  of 
Jeroboam,  who  made  Israel  to  sin.' ' 

Now  the  obligation  and  responsibility  thus  felt  by 
the  chiefs  of  Israel  and  Judah,  was  confessed  not  less 
openly  by  some  of  the  Eoman  Emperors.  Wlien  Eome 
became  a  monarchy,  the  spiritual  headship  of  the  people 
was  assumed  by  the  Csesar  as  definitely  as  if  he  were 
the  anointed  of  Jehovah.  It  might  be  mere  craft  and 
policy  that  induced  Augustus  to  call  for  a  restoration  of 
national  religion  ;  he  knew  well  that  religion  is  the  safe- 
guard of  thrones,  and  sought  doubtless  to  clench  thereby 
the  obedience  of  his  subjects.  It  might  be  superstition, 
for  Augustus  was  the  victim  of  many  an  abject  supersti- 
tion. Great  conquerors,  the  realizers  of  great  projects — 
great  favourites,  as  we  call  them,  of  fortune,  and  we  al- 
most sanction  the  sentiment  ourselves  in  calling  them  so 
— generally  are  superstitious.  And  again,  there  might 
be  some  real  belief,  some  genuine  religion  in  it ;  for  Au- 
gustus was  too  great  a  man  not  to  be  strongly  and  de- 
N^outly  impressed  with  the  depth  and  breadth  and  height 
of  the  mission  to  which  he  was  appointed.  At  the  same 
time,  from  the  innovating  spirit  of  the  theorists  and  phi- 
losophers Augustus  was  singularly  free,  if  not  absolute- 
ly hostile  to  it.     While  the  educated  men  of  Eome  were 

■  2  Kings,  X.  28,  29. 


"46  LECTURE   II. 

banded,  as  it  were,  in  the  contending  camps  of  the  Stoics 
and  Epicureans  and  Platonists ;  while  ahnost  every  emi- 
nent statesman  among  them  announced  himself  the  disci- 
ple of  some  dogmatic  teacher,  as  publicly  as  he  declared 
himself  the  follower  of  a  party  leader,  it  was  remarked 
that  this  man,  the  most  eminent  of  all,  stood  scornfully 
aloof  from  all  the  schools  of  thought  and  moral  doctrine. 
The  religion  of  the  genuine  Eoman  had  no  sympathy 
with  them  ;  the  personal  aspirations  they  might  engender, 
the  yearning  after  the  invisible,  the  ardent  gaze  upon  an 
ideal  of  virtue  and  holiness  ;  these  sentiments  in  which, 
imperfect  and  partial  as  in  the  mere  natural  heart  they 
must  be,  we  as  Christians  still  place  the  first  seeds  and 
germs  of  religious  principle,  had  no  connection  with  the 
train  of  thought  and  basis  of  feeling  on  which  the  sys- 
tem of  the  Priests  and  Pontiffs,  the  Augurs  and  the 
Flamens,  was  established.  Such  were  not  the  pillars  on 
which  the  conqueror  could  build  his  Empire.  He  must 
revert  to  the  old  foundations :  he  must  stand  upon  the 
ancient  ways. 

Hence,  then,  his  propping  of  the  falling  temples,  his 
repair  of  decayed  and  smoke-soiled  images ;  hence  his 
erection  of  thrice  a  hundred  shrines  in  the  city,  his  re- 
vival of  old  religious  usages,  his  enforcement  of  the 
sanctions  of  property  and  marriage,  his  correction  of  so- 
cial irregularities,  his  Pantheon,  his  Secular  Games, 
his  incessant  sacrifices  and  lustrations.  Such  were  the 
elements  of  a  religious  revival,  which  Augustus  deemed 
requisite  for  the  gaining  of  Divine  favour,  for  the  safety 


GENUINE   CHARACTER   OF    THIS    REVIVAL.  47 

of  the  State,  for  tlie  perpetuation,  it  may  be,  of  liis  own 
government  and  power.  The  man  who  in  his  youth, 
when  himself  an  aspirant  and  an  adventurer,  had  mock- 
ed the  gods  of  his  country  with  indecent  ribaldry — a 
Jehu  in  ambition,  in  btoodshed,  in  every  personal  impur- 
ity— in  mature  age,  when  accepted,  as  it  seemed,  for  the 
favourite  of  heaven,  the  first  child  of  Olympus,  acknowl- 
edged that  his  own  rule,  like  the  sovereignty  of  Rome 
herself,  depended  on  the  Powers  above,  and  was  founded 
on  the  confession  of  their  mighty  name.  Nor  was  this 
a  mere  personal  feeling.  The  general  consent  of  the 
writers  of  the  time,  admitting  this  principle  of  a 
providential  government,  accords  fully  with  it,  and 
reflects  the  temper  of  the  age  as  faithfully  as  of  the  sov- 
ereign. 

There  was  then  a  deep  religious  feeling  among  the 
Romans,  however  blind  and  narrow  we  must  esteem  it, 
in  whi(;h  their  chief  himself  partook,  even  while  he  prof- 
ited by  it.  This  feeling  is  attested,  among  many  other 
tokens,  by  the  outburst  at  the  time  of  pretended  prophe- 
cy, by  the  general  augury  of  a  spiritual  manifestation  ; 
showing  that  it  was  no  mere  outward  pretence,  no  mere 
ceremonial  reformation,  not  a  revival  only  of  masonry  and 
upholstery.  Paganism  had  indeed  no  tap-root  of  moral 
renovation.  A  religious  revival  in  the  age  of  Augustus 
may  have  been  but  the  maudlin  remorse  which  follows 
on  a  surfeit  of  sin  and  selfish  indulgence.  Yet  for  a  mo- 
ment at  least  the  nation's  heart  was  stricken,  its  con- 
science agitated  ;  and  the  chief  who  rejected  the  exotic 


48  LECTUKE   II. 

doctrines  of  the  ideologists  ;  who  restored  the  cult  of  the 
national  divinities ;  who  sate  once  a  year  at  the  gate  of 
his  palace,  and  propitiated  Nemesis  hy  the  begging  of 
alms ;  who  appealed  to  the  bystanders  at  his  death-bed 
with  a  smile,  'Have  I  played  well  my  part  in  the  show 
and  drama  of  life  ? '  was,  I  conceive,  a  signal  example  of 
the  native  power  of  the  religious  sentiment  of  the  Ro- 
man people. 

It  was  necessary  to  examine  this  example  closely  if  we 
would  estimate  the  work  which  it  was  appointed  for  the 
Gospel  to  effect  on  the  heart  of  the  heathen.  I  will  not 
detain  you  with  a  survey  of  a  similar  revival,  impelled  a 
hundred  years  later  by  another  Csesar,  another  profligate, 
another  tyrant,  yet  another  anxious  votary  of  the  gods 
of  Rome,  It  was  the  boast  of  Domitian  that  in  his  youth 
he  had  waged  the  wars  of  Jove,  in  defence  of  the  Capi- 
tol ;  that  in  a  later  age  he  had  scaled  the  heavens  for 
himself  and  his  family,  by  piously  restoring  it.  He  too 
enforced  the  religious  code  of  antiquity  with  the  ruthless 
barbarity  of  a  Jehu ;  he  too  rejected  every  spiritual  in- 
novation, persecuted  the  Christians  and  expelled  the  phi- 
losophers. The  heart  and  conscience  of  his  countrymen, 
alarmed  by  many  signs  and  sufferings,  responded  to  the 
impulse  he  gave  it ;  and  the  student  of  history  cannot 
fail  to  appreciate  the  sense  of  religious  responsibility 
evinced  by  the  Roman  people  under  the  rule  of  the  Fla- 
vian dynasty. 

What  then,  we  may  ask,  was  the  religious  idea  which 
was  before  Christianity ;  which  was  so  widely  spread, 


HEATHEN   mEA   OF   RELIGION.  49 

SO  deeply  rooted,  so  keenly  felt,  so  importunute  in  its  as- 
saults on  the  conscience  even  of  wordlings  and  sensual- 
ists ;  which  all  the  vice,  and  sin,  and  carnal  abomina- 
tions of  the  natural  heart  could  not  extinguish  or  allay ; 
which  Christianity  was  sent  into  the  world  to  combat,  to 
try  as  with  fire,  to  purge  its  dross  and  draw  forth  its 
residue  of  gold ;  which  was  so  hostile  in  its  outward 
form  to  Christianity  that  the  two  could  not  endure  to- 
gether, but  its  rites  must  be  abolished,  its  mysteries  sup- 
pressed, its  vanity  demonstrated  ;  while  it  still  held  fast 
the  true  foundation  of  the  fear  of  God,  and  confession  of 
His  providence  ? 

Look  back  for  a  moment  at  the  early  world,  in  the 
aspect  of  nature  and  the  works  of  man ;  at  the  woods  in 
which  men  planted  their  first  stockades,  the  rocks  on 
which  they  founded  their  primeval  fortifications,  the 
lakes  in  which  they  raised  their  first  amphibious  dwell- 
ing-places. Look  at  the  masses  of  Cyclopean  masonry, 
piled  upon  rugged  cliffs ;  the  solid  bulk  of  earthworks, 
stretching  from  hill  to  hill,  and  from  sea  to  sea.  Do  not 
these  glimpses  of  society  in  infancy  point,  and  nowhere 
more  plainly  than  in  Italy  itself,  to  a  state  of  existence 
in  which  men  lived  together  in  constant  apprehension  of 
other  men  ;  in  which  combination  for  mutual  protection 
was  the  first  and  paramount  object  of  all ;  in  which  mu- 
tual fear  was  the  common  bond  of  union,  and  every  na- 
tion, tribe,  and  clan  was  banded  together  against  all  its 
neighbours  ?  This  is  not  a  description,  perhaps  of  the  pa- 
triarchal and  pastoral  comnmnities  of  the  plain  of  Shinai 
4 


50  LECTUEE  n. 

and  tlie  banks  of  the  Euphrates ;  but  looking  westward 
to  Greece  and  Italy,  we  observe  how  tlie  necessary  con- 
ditions of  civil  society  issued  in  the  most  jealous  of  all 
national  institutions,  the  most  exclusive  of  all  national 
beliefs.  The  idea  of  Greek  and  Roman  religion  was  to 
secure  by  a  national  worship  the  enjoyment  of  national 
advantages,  protection,  favour  and  reward,  escape  from 
national  disasters  and  national  punishments.  This  was 
the  political  religion  of  states  and  peoples.  Their  priests 
w^ere  the  mediators  between  God  and  the  Nation,  be- 
tween Heaven  and  the  City.  The  Citizen  was  merged 
in  the  State ;  for  the  State  he  was  born,  he  lived,  he 
married,  he  tilled  his  land,  he  bequeathed  his  goods,  he 
perpetuated  his  family.  The  Roman  worshipped  for  his 
country  rather  than  for  himself.  To  the  gods  of  the 
enemy  he  opposed  the  gods  of  Rome  ;  and  if  he  conquer- 
ed the  enemy  he  was  anxious  to  propitiate  his  gods 
though  baffled,  and  draw  tliem  by  craft,  by  flattery,  even 
by  force,  to  his  own  side.  His  idea  of  religion  was  of  a 
national,  not  a  personal  covenant  with  God.  His  rule 
of  right  was  framed  on  views  of  public  expediency.  If 
his  principles  were  narrow  or  corrupt,  his  strictness  in 
maintaining  them  was  often  worthy  of  a  better  code  and  a 
higher  sanction.  But  whatever  his  idea  of  duty,  whatever 
his  law,  he  recognized  no  future  retribution  for  his  deeds. 
Like  the  Athenian,  he  was  even  too  superstitious  in  his 
apprehension  of  a  Divine  Power;  believing  in  God,  he  be- 
lieved in  Him  as  a  Rewarder  indeed  of  them  that  diligent- 
ly seek  Him  ;  but  the  care  of  the  gods,  lie  imagined,  was 


THE  POPULAR  BELIEF  AT  ROME.  51 

for  the  nation  rather  than  the  individual  worshipper, 
their  favour  temporal,  their  rewards  and  punishments 
of  the  earth  earthy.  Starting,  I  say,  from  the  notion  of 
the  gods  as  national  patrons,  he  could  scarce  conceive  in 
his  mind — surely  he  could  not  logically  conceive  of  them 
— as  ushering  the  man,  the  citizen,  into  a  personal  im- 
mortality. 

The  tendency  of  such  a  fixed  idea  of  religion  was  to 
resolve  the  essence  of  piety  into  the  fulfilment  of  cere- 
monial observances.  Its  main  object  was  to  preserve  the 
traditions  of  immemorial  antiquity,  to  hand  down  in- 
tact from  generation  to  generation  the  forms  and  usages 
of  the  past.  The  popular  belief  of  Home  pointed  to  a 
period  long  since  past,  when  tlie  people  were  exempla- 
rily  religious,  when  the  Divine  services  were  i^unctually 
performed,  when  the  gods  were  always  propitious,  when 
the  State  was  always  prosperous,  when  her  men  were 
brave,  her  women  chaste,  her  legions  triumphant.  In 
every  crisis  of  terror  or  disaster  the  heart  of  the  multi- 
tude turned  with  unutterable  yearnings  to  the  traditions 
of  that  happy  age ;  and  sought  to  recover,  were  it  but 
possible,  by  fond  recurrence  to  the  ancient  practice,  the 
favour  and  happiness  they  seemed  to  have  foregone.  The 
piety  of  the  Romans  looked  ever  backward :  its  ideal  lay 
behind  it,  not  before  it.  It  aspired  to  present  safety  or 
enjoyment  by  a  faithful  imitation  of  an  imaginary  Past ; 
but  it  had  no  standard  of  future  excellence  or  future 
blessedness  to  attain  unto,  no  rising  star  to  follow,  no  ex- 
pansion, no  development  to  anticipate.     With  no  yearn- 


62  LECTUKE  n. 

mgs  for  consummation  and  perfection  hereafter,  it  took 
no  heed  of  advance  or  improvement  here.  Of  whatever 
greatness  or  goodness  man  was  by  nature  capable,  he  was 
supposed  to  have  already  attained  to  it ;  enough,  and 
more  than  enough,  if  he  had  not  fallen  from  the  height 
of  his  early  attainments,  and  forfeited  his  privileges  for 
ever.  How  obscure  the  Past !  how  comfortless  the  Pres- 
ent !  how  blank  the  Future  !  A  Divine  power  with  no 
adequate  subject  for  its  exercise !  A  Divine  Providence 
with  no  consistent  scheme  of  creation  and  government ! 
And  yet,  so  strong,  so  lively  was  this  corrupt  conception, 
this  narrow  view  of  God  and  Providence,  this  nervous 
apprehension  of  temporal  rewards  and  punishments,  fos- 
tered by  long  ages  of  political  success — that  not  only  was 
it  made  the  subject  of  a  national  revival  under  an  Augus- 
tus and  a  Domitian,  but  it  continued  to  struggle  on 
under  many  a  mortal  discouragement — retaining  its  hold 
of  the  throbbing  heart — animating  the  body  of  expiring 
Paganism,  for  many  a  century  after  them.  The  last 
phase  of  the  worship  of  Olympus  was  the  personification 
of  Pome  herself  as  the  patron  deity  of  the  Pomans,  and 
of  Victory  the  embodied  symbol  of  their  national  power 
and  success.  To  the  last  moment  the  simple  theory  of 
the  Gospel — which  the  Apostle  required  a  vision  to  cour 
ceive  and  realize — that  God  is  no  respecter  of  persons, 
but  til  at  m  every  nation  he  that  feareth  Him  and  work- 
eth  righteousness  is  accepted  of  Him,  was  strange  and 
abhorrent  from  the  prejudices  of  the  heathen.  The  City 
of  God,  in  the  Christian  dispensation,  is  neither  Pome 


BELIEF   IN    A   NATIONAL   rEOVIDENCE.  53 

nor  Athens,  nor  even  Jerusalem,  but  the  society  of  be- 
lievers on  earth  in  spiritual  communion  with  the  saints 
in  heaven.  It  has  no  promise  of  temporal  favour,  no 
assurance  of  defence  against  the  world  or  the  flesh ;  its 
promises  point  to  a  future  reward,  its  terrors  respect  an 
impending  retribution.  It  was  to  this  belief,  simple  to 
us,  but  strange  to  him,  that  the  heathen  was  to  be  brought 
— slowly,  painfully,  under  stress  of  manifold  influences, 
which  I  hope  on  future  occasions  to  unfold.  But  he  had 
still,  at  the  time  of  our  Lord's  coming,  a  substantive  be- 
lief of  his  own  ;  a  belief  most  alien  from  the  Gospel,  most 
visionary  to  the  enlightened  reason ;  a  religion  of  tem- 
poral views  and  sanctions,  a  religion  of  national  not  in- 
dividual import.  To  this  he  had  been  led  by  the  first 
necessities  of  his  social  condition ;  in  this  he  had  been 
confirmed  by  the  success  which  had  long  seemed  to  at- 
tend upon  it ;  to  this,  if  ever  forgetful  of  it  in  his  pros- 
perity, if  ever  disgusted  with  it  in  his  adversity,  still  from 
time  to  time  he  passionately  recurred,  full  of  horror  at 
his  own  backslidiug,  full  of  hope  for  his  tardy  resipis- 
cence.  Three  hundred  years  after  tl^e  first  preaching 
of  the  Gospel  the  chastened  eloquence  of  the  Christian 
Lactantius  was  still  employed  in  exposing  this  spiritual 
perversion,  this  sacrifice  of  the  soul  to  the  lust  of  the  eye, 
and  the  pride  of  life. 

'  And  now,'  he  says,  '  to  sum  up  the  Christian  theory 
briefly.  The  world  was  made  that  man  might  be  born 
into  it.  Man  was  made  that  he  might  recognise  God 
the  Maker  of  the  world,  and  of  himself,     "We  recognise 


54  LECTUEE  n. 

Him  that  we  may  worship  Him ;  we  worship  Him  that 
we  may  earn  immortality  through  the  works  Avhich  are 
His  peculiar  service ;  we  receive  the  reward  of  immor- 
tality that,  being  made  like  unto  the  angels,  we  may 
serve  our  Lord  and  Father  for  ever,  and  he  His  everlast- 
ing kingdom.  This  is  the  sum  of  all  things ;  this  the 
secret  of  God,  the  mystery  of  creation,  to  which  they  are 
strangers  who,  following  present  lusts,  have  abandoned 
themselves  to  things  frail  and  earthly,  and  have  pluuged 
in  deadly  pleasures,  as  in  the  mire,  souls  born  for  heaven- 
ly occupation. 

'  But  what  sense  can  there  be  in  the  worship  of  the 
gods  of  the  heathen  ?  If  they  are  many  in  number,  if 
they  are  worshipped  by  men  for  the  sake  of  wealth,  hon- 
our, victory,  which  profit  for  this  life  only ;  if  we  are 
created  for  no  purpose ;  if  we  are  born  by  chance  for  our 
own  selves  and  for  pleasure  only  ;  if  after  death  we  are 
nothing,  what  so  vain,  so  foolish,  so  frivolous  as  man's  life 
and  being,  and  the  whole  world  itself,  which,  infinite  as 
it  is  in  magnitude,  and  wonderful  in  structure,  is  thus 
abandoned  to  vanity  ?  For  why  do  the  winds  blow  and 
collect  the  clouds  ?  why  gleam  the  lightnings  ?  why  roar 
the  thunders,  and  descend  the  rains  for  the  increase  of 
earth's  manifold  offspring?  why,  in  short,  doth  all  na- 
ture labour,  that  nothing  may  be  wanting  of  the  things 
by  which  man's  being  is  sustained,  if  life  be  empty,  if  we 
wither  to  nothing,  if  nought  be  in  us  of  greater  interest 
to  God  ?  But  if  it  be  sin  to  say,  nor  possible  to  believe, 
that  that  which  we  sec  to  consist  with  the  highest  plan 


-     COlVrBATED   BY   LACTANTIUS.  55 

and  purpose,  was  not  itself  for  some  great  purpose  con- 
stituted, -what  sense  can  there  be  in  these  errors  of  the 
felse  religions,  and  in  this  persuasion  of  the  philosophers 
that  the  souls  of  men  do  perish  ?  Surely  none  what- 
ever.' ' 

•  See  Note  E. 


LECTUKE  III. 

EXPANSION   OF  HEATHEN  BELIEF  BY  THE  TEACHING  OF  THE 
PHILOSOPHERS. 

Acts  xvii.  26. 

God  Tiath  made  of  one  'blood  all  nations  of  inen^for  to  dwell  on  all 
the  face  of  the  earth. 

Few  declarations  of  Holy  "Writ  have  sunk  more  deep- 
ly into  the  heart  and  conscience  of  Christendom  than 
this,  by  which  we  confess  the  unity  of  the  human  race  in 
its  claims  on  man  and  God,  on  the  sympathy  of  our  fel- 
low-beings, and  on  the  justice  and  mercy  of  our  Creator. 
This  is  the  point  to  which  all  Scripture  seems  to  lead 
up.  The  doctrine  which  is  plainly  set  forth  in  the  first 
chapter  of  Genesis,  which  is  affirmed  repeatedly  in  the 
record  of  God's  dealings  with  the  Jewish  people,  when 
Pie  chose  them  out  from  among  other  and  mightier 
nations,  for  no  merit  or  superior  character  of  their  own, 
but  for  the  special  purposes  of  His  providence,  to  be 
merged  again  once  more  in  the  general  mass  of  mankind, 
Jew  and  Gentile,  among  whom  the  Church  and  spiritual 
people  of  Christ  should  be  established — this  doctrine,  I 
say,  of  the  essential  unity  of  our  race  is  again  dogmat- 


THE   PRINCIPLE   OF   CHRISTIAN   BELIEF.  57 

ically  asserted  in  the  text  of  St.  Paul,  and  asserted  or 
implied  elsewhere  tlirougliout  the  volume  of  the  Kew 
Testament — made  in  fact  the  very  foundation  of  the 
jDromised  preaching  of  salvation  to  the  Gentiles.  Such 
is  the  thorough  consistency  of  the  Word  of  God  from 
one  end  to  the  other ;  such  the  Divine  inspiration  of 
truth  breathed  into  it  from  the  beginning,  and  continued 
to  it  even  unto  the  end.  And  this  doctrine,  I  repeat,  is 
one  which  all  Christendom  has  uniformly  accej)ted  as 
certain  and  divine.  There  has  been,  I  suppose,  no  doubt 
of  it  at  any  time  in  the  Church  ;  so  entirely  does  it  seem 
to  harmonize  with  our  own  moral  convictions,  as  well  as 
with  the  express  declaration  of  Scripture.  Nevertheless, 
this  doctrine  is  far  from  being  one  of  which  men  can  be 
said  to  have  a  natural  and  instinctive  apprehension.  It 
is  a  truth  engrafted  upon  the  human  stock.  Let  us  see 
how  the  matter  stood  at  the  time  when  the  apostle  thus 
definitely  announced  it. 

I  explained  in  my  last  lecture  the  principle  on  which 
the  religion  of  Eome  was  founded,  and  on  which  it  still 
continued  to  rest,  fixed  by  its  weight,  if  not  grappled 
by  the  root,  at  the  period  of  our  Lord's  actual  teaching. 
This  principle  was  the  belief  in  national  divinities,  the 
patrons  of  the  State,  in  the  protection  of  one  favoured 
race  against  all  others,  the  maintenance  of  a  federal  com- 
pact between  Heaven  and  the  City,  in  which  the  indi- 
vidual worshipper  had  but  a  relative  and  proportionate 
interest.  This  was  the  hostile  principle  with  which  the 
Gospel  was  to  make  no  terms,  to  hold  no  peace ;  to  com- 


58  LECTUKE  m. 

bat  it,  first  where  it  lingered  in  the  bosom  of  the  de- 
scendant of  Abraham,  but  more  especially,  more  perma- 
nently, to  combat  it  where  it  was  enthroned  in  the  prej- 
udices, enwoven  in  the  selfishness  of  the  Roman  and  the 
Greek.  Till  this  principle  was  overthrown,  Christianity 
could  not  triumph ;  as  long  as  it  held  sway  over  the 
human  heart  to  which  it  was  naturally  congenial,  Chris- 
tianity could  make  no  sound  or  palpable  progress  in  the 
world.  At  this  moment  it  was  a  formidable  foe  to  the 
Gospel.  It  not  only  dwelt  in  the  hearts  and  persuasions 
of  the  people,  but  was  supported  by  all  the  powers  of 
political  interest ;  it  glowed  with  the  pomp  of  ceremo- 
nial observances ;  it  was  hallowed  by  the  charm  of  long 
possession,  by  its  pretended  appeal  to  actual  experience, 
and  the  demonstration  it  affected  to  derive  from  the 
worldly  success  of  the  Roman  Empire.  It  was  still  a 
living  and  active  principle,  for  it  was  capable  of  a  mark- 
ed revival,  a  new  growth  and  development,  as  proved 
more  than  once  in  the  course  of  the  Koman  history. 
But  God's  word  had  gone  forth  that  His  Church  was 
founded  upon  a  rock,  and  the  gates  of  hell  should  not 
prevail  against  it.  He  had  launched  His  Gospel  into 
the  world  ;  the  apostles  were  bearing  the  good  tidings 
from  land  to  land,  and  the  motto  they  inscribed  on  their 
banner  when  they  offered  to  do  battle  with  all  the  powers 
of  the  false  religions  was  such  words  as  those  of  the  text, 
'  God  hath  make  of  one  blood  all  nations  of  men  for  to 
dwell  on  all  the  face  of  the  earth ; "  '  By  one  Spirit  are 

^  Acts  xvii.  2G. 


spmrruAL  doctrine  of  plato.  59 

we  all  baptized  into  one  body,  whether  we  be  Jews  or 
Gentiles,  whether  we  be  bond  9r  free  ; ' '  and,  '  God  is  no 
respecter  of  j)ersons  ;  but  in  every  nation  he  that  feareth 
Him,  and  worketh  righteousness,  is  accepted  with  Him ;  * 
and  again, '  There  is  neither  Greek  nor  Jew,  circumcision 
nor  uncircumcision,  barbarian,  Scythian,  bond  nor  free  : 
but  Christ  is  all,  and  in  all.' ' 

In  fact,  however  formidable  was  the  front  which  the 
power  of  the  false  religions  advanced  against  the  first 
preaching  of  the  Truth,  the  principle  on  which  it  stood 
was  already  sapped  from  within  by  the  circumstances  of 
society  around  it,  and  the  slow  and  gradual  influence  of 
social  opinion.  Four  centuries  before  Christ  a  doctrine 
had  been  promulgated  in  which  the  Fathers  of  the  Chris- 
tian Church  recognized  a  faint  adumbration  of  some 
lineaments  of  Christian  Truth,  in  which  the  spiritual 
character  of  God  as  the  common  source  of  all  human 
spirituality,  the  reality  and  nearness  of  His  providential 
government,  the  possibility  at  least  of  a  future  state  of 
retribution,  and  the  duties  of  repentance  and  devotion 
towards  God,  of  love  and  general  charity  towards  men, 
had  been  set  forth  in  pleasing  though  uncertain  colours.* 
Lofty  indeed,  and  spiritual  as  the  teaching  of  Plato  was, 
it  was  baffled  in  its  operation,  and  degraded  by  the  in- 
veterate prejudice  of  the  Grecian  and  the  Pagan — their 
prejudice  against  tlie  natural  equality  and  unity  of  man, 
his  equal  claim  on  God,  his  common  right  to  social  and 

'  1  Cor.  xii.  13.  =  Acts  x.  34,  35 

'■'  Col.  iii.  11.  ^  See  Note  F. 


60  LECTUKE  ni. 

political  freedom,  bis  right  to  live  in  personal  relation  to 
his  Mal-cer  through  his  own  conscience,  and  not  merely 
in  a  political  relation  to  him  through  the  state  of  which 
he  was  socially  a  citizen.     The  actual  division,  it  would 
seem,  of  Greece  into   rival   communities   operated   so 
forcibly  on  Plato's  imagination,  that  he  could  not  con- 
ceive of  mankind  as  living  in  a  single  or  a  Avidely  diffus- 
ed community  ;  and  his  ideal  of  a  political  Utopia  was 
not  a  broad  cosmopolite  association  of  men  of  various 
races,  creeds,  and  colom'S,  and  climates,  but  the  narrow- 
est and  closest  combination  of  a  few  select  thousands — 
even  the  number  he  expressly  limited — to  keep  themselves 
apart  in  all  their  public  relations  from  all  the  rest  of 
mankind.     So  only  could  he  imagine  that  the  practical 
end  of  true  philosophy  and  religion  could  be  attained. 
So  only  could  mankind,  in  his  partial  view,  acquire  or 
retain  a  just  conception  of  their  relation  to  the  Divine, 
and  fulfil  tlie  spiritual  object  of  their  being.     His  theory 
fell  short  of  his  principles,  and  whatever  in  his  religious 
creed  was  truly  expansive  and  liberal,  stood  in  glaring 
contradiction  to  his  political  doctrines.     The  combina- 
tion of  the  two  in  one  system  could  result  only  in  a  strange 
and  disappointing  inconsistency.' 

It  would  seem  that  this  inconsistency  did  not  escape  the 
penetrating  vision  of  the  next  great  master  of  heathen 
philosophy,  Aristotle.  Warned  by  it,  this  teacher  took 
a  step  backward.  Instead  of  carrying  on  the  great  spir- 
itual theory  of  Plato,  and  making  it  logical  by  widening 
'  Sec  Note  G. 


Aristotle's  step  backwards.  61 

the  basis  of  humanity  on  which  it  rested,  he  yielded  still 
more  to  the  j)rejiidices  of  his  countrymen,  and  was  con- 
tent to  regard  man  and  his  spiritual  claims  still  more  ex- 
clusively from  the  narrow  Grecian  stand-point.  He 
avowed  without  remorse  the  preeminence  of  one  race 
over  every  other ;  he  declared  the  distinction  to  be  natural 
and  necessary  between  man  and  man,  Greek  and  barbari- 
an ;  as  far  as  in  him  lay  he  would  have  fixed  once  and 
for  ever  the  limits  beyond  which  truth  and  knowledge, 
political  rights,  spiritual  privileges,  should  not  pass.  He 
would  have  confined  the  work  of  God  in  the  soul  of  man 
to  one  petty  province,  and  thereby  have  practically  abol- 
ished the  work  of  God  in  the  soul  of  man  altogether. 
This  single  step  backwards,  so  rashly,  so  inopportunely 
taken,  would  have  destroyed  the  first  germ  of  true  religion 
in  the  world  of  Pagan  antiquity.' 

Rashly  indeed,  and  inopportunely ;  for  while  the  phi- 
losopher was  baffling  himself  by  the  acuteness  of  his  own 
logic,  God  was  doing  a  work  in  the  world  which  from 
the  mere  force  of  circumstances  would  utterly  refute  and 
«liscredit  it.  While  the  philosopher  in  his  closet  was 
mapping  out  the  nations  of  the  earth,  by  their  political 
di\dsions,  and  civil  constitutions,  the  conqueror  in  the 
field  was  bringing  them,  far  and  near,  under  one  sceptre, 
one  law,  and  one  name.  Aristotle  was  dividing  and  dis- 
criminating the  hundred  and  fifty  polities  of  the  civilized 
world  ;  Alexander  was  laying  broad  and  deep  the  foun- 
dations of  the  Macedonian  Empire.     It  was  the  work  of 

'  See  Note  H 


62  LEOTUEE  ni. 

God  :  not  merely  in  the  ordinary  sense  in  wliicli  we  rev- 
erently and  justly  ascribe  to  Providence  every  move- 
ment among  men  on  tlie  face  of  His  earth,  and  the  more 
confidently  so,  the  wider  and  more  permanent  it  is  ;  but 
God  Himself  has  claimed  this  work  as  His  own  by  the 
indication  He  gave  of  it  in  the  records  of  His  Word,  by 
the  mouth  of  His  prophet  Daniel. 

God,  who  hath  made  of  one  blood  all  nations  of  men 
for  to  dwell  on  the  face  of  the  earth,  and  hath  determin- 
ed the  time  before  appointed,  and  the  bounds  of  their 
habitation  ;  God,  who  by  a  vision  revealed  to  His  Apos- 
tle Peter  that  He  is  no  respecter  of  persons,  was  pleased 
by  a  dream,  and  the  interpretation  of  a  dream,  to  fore- 
shadow the  establishment  of  the  third  great  Empire, 
which,  after  the  Assyrian  and  the  Persian,  ruling  much 
more  widely,  founded  far  more  deeply,  operating  more 
gravely  and  permanently  than  they,  should  combine  the 
nations  of  the  world  together,  and  force  upon  the  under- 
standing and  conscience  of  men  the  truth  of  this  great 
spiritual  doctrine,  the  essential  unity  of  the  human  race ; 
the  doctrine  which,  true  long  before  Christianity,  has 
been  accepted,  diffused,  and  perpetuated  by  Christianity 
itself. 

It  was  vain  to  teach  this  doctrine  by  the  lips  of  a 
heathen  master,  however  wise  and  gifted.  The  pure  and 
spiritual  Plato  had  tried  and  failed.  Aristotle  had  shrunk 
from  the  attempt.  But  what  Plato  could  not  do,  and 
his  successor  abandoned  as  an  illusion,  was  efiected  by  a 


THE   MACEDONIAN   EMPIRE.  63 

political  resolution,  long  prepared  but  suddenly  execut- 
ed, by  the  establishment  of  the  world-wide  empire  of 
Alexander,  foretold  by  God's  prophet,  and  recognised 
on  its  occurrence  as  the  work  of  His  far-designing  Prov- 
idence. 

The  prophecy  of  Daniel,  accepted  by  the  Jews  as  the 
inspired  word  of  God,  points  clearly  to  this  event  as  a 
great  epoch  in  the  history  of  God's  spiritual  dealings 
with  mankind.  Its  full  import  and  significance  appear 
when  we  regard  it  in  its  direct  consequences,  not  as  the 
triumph  of  one  set  of  heathens  over  another,  not  as  the 
exultation  of  the  West  over  the  East,  of  Europe  over 
Asia,  of  one  type  of  civilization  over  another,  of  one  form 
of  political  society  over  another,  of  one  family  of  lan- 
guages over  another,  great  as  the  effect  of  each  and  all 
of  these  revolutions  has  been  on  the  progress  of  human 
thought — but  as  the  authoritative  promulgation  of  the 
doctrine  of  the  natural  equality  of  men  before  God,  and 
the  fusion  of  many  peoples,  many  laws,  many  ideas  in  one 
universal  mould. 

Nebuchadnezzar  dreamed,  as  we  read  in  Daniel,  of  a 
third  kingdom  of  brass,  which  should  rule  over  all  the 
earth  ; '  and  this  was  interpreted  in  the  time  of  Josephus, 
and  by  the  Jews  themselves,  of  a  people  coming  from  the 
West,  clad  in  brazen  armour — not  in  the  gilded  silk  or 
cotton  vestments  of  the  East — which  should  destroy  the 
empire  of  the  Medes  and  Persians.  The  conqueror 
claimed  for  himself  the  title  of  king  of  all  the  world,  and 

'  Daniel  ii.  39. 


64:  LECTURE   III 

appeared  in  his  own  conceit,  and  to  the  imagination  of 
the  millions  around  him,  as  lie  stood  on  the  confines  or 
the  habitable  globe  or  plunged  his  courser's  hoofs  in  the 
waves  of  the  Indian  Ocean,  the  master  of  all  tlie  land  and 
sea. 

Of  the  action  of  this  conquest  no  description  is  given 
in  the  bare  outline  of  the  Scripture  record  ;  but  we  may 
add  that  the  influence  of  Grecian  conquest  was  eminent- 
ly soothing  and  civilizing ;  it  diffused  ideas  of  humanity 
and  moral  culture,  while  the  conquerors  themselves  im- 
bibed, on  their  side,  the  highest  of  moral  lessons,  lessons 
of  liberality,  of  toleration,  of  sympathy  with  all  God's 
human  creation.  '  Alexander,'  says  Plutarch,  '  did  not 
hearken  to  his  preceptor  Aristotle,  who  advised  him  to 
bear  himself  as  a  prince  among  the  Greeks,  his  own  peo- 
ple, but  as  a  master  among  the  barbarians  ;  to  treat  the 
one  as  friends  and  kinsmen,  the  others  as  animals  or  chat- 
tels. .  .  .  But,  conceiving  that  he  was  sent  by  God 
to  be  an  umpire  between  all,  and  to  unite  all  together, 
he  reduced  by  arms  those  whom  he  could  not  conquer 
by  persuasion,  and  formed  of  a  hundred  diverse  nations 
one  single  universal  body,  mingling  as  it  were  in  one  cup 
of  friendship  the  customs,  the  marriages,  and  the  laws 
of  all.  He  desired  that  all  should  regard  the  whole 
world  as  their  common  country,  the  good  as  fellow-citi- 
zens and  brethren,  the  bad  as  aliens  and  enemies ;  that 
the  Greeks  should  no  longer  be  distinguished  from  the 
foreigner  by  arms  or  costume,  but  that  every  good  man 


DOCTEESTE   OF   THE   UNITY   OF   MANKIND.  C5 

should  be  esteemed  an  Hellene,  every  evil  man  a  bar- 
barian.' ' 

Here,  in  a  few  rapid  touches,  enforced  by  a  vivid 
illustration  wliicli  we  may  pass  over,  is  the  picture  of 
the  new  humane  polity,  the  new  idea  of  human  society 
flashed  upon  the  imagination  of  manhind  by  the 
establishment  of  the  Macedonian  Empire.  Such  at 
least  it  appeared  to  the  mind  of  a  writer  five  centuries 
later ;  but  there  are  traces  preserved,  even  in  the  wrecks 
of  ancient  civilization,  of  the  moral  effect  which  it  act- 
ually produced  on  the  feelings  of  society  much  more 
nearly  contemporaneous.  The  conqueror  indeed  perish- 
ed early,  but  not  prematurely.  He  had  done  his  work 
as  the  instrument  of  Providence  ;  and  Providence  broke 
at  once  and  threw  away  the  instrument  which,  selfish  in 
its  aims  and  arbitrary  in  its  actions,  had  perhaps,  hu- 
manly speaking,  no  claim  on  its  forbearance.  But  the 
providential  work  survived.  The  great  empire  was  split 
into  many  fragments,  but  each  long  preserved  a  sense  of 
the  unity  from  which  it  was  broken  off.  All  were  leav- 
ened more  or  less  with  a  common  idea  of  civilization, 
and  recognized  man  as  one  being  in  various  stages  of  de- 
velopment, to  be  trained  under  one  guidance  and  elevat- 
ed to  one  spiritual  level.  In  the  two  great  kingdoms  of 
Egypt  and  Syria,  which  sprang  out  of  the  Macedonian — 
in  the  two  great  cities  of  Alexandria  and  Antioch,  to 
which  the  true  religion  owes  so  deep  a  debt — the  unity  of 
the  human  race  was  practically  asserted  and  maintained. 

•  Plut.  de  fort.  Alex.     See  Note  I. 
5 


*^';">  LECTURE   ni. 

Alexandria  invited  all  nations  to  meet  together  and  ex- 
change in  Iier  common  mart  the  products  of  every  laud, 
and  enjoy  the  material  fruits  of  God's  creation.  Antioch 
was  for  ages  the  chosen  home  of  science  and  philosoph}', 
and  fused,  the  religious  ideas  of  many  peoples,  which  she 
discriminated  and  harmonized  with  a  zest  peculiar  to 
herself.  In  Alexandria  the  Jews  were  welcomed  and 
domiciled,  and  encouraged  to  diffuse  the  knowledge  of 
the  law  of  Israel  by  the  translation  of  the  older  Scrip- 
tures :  in  Antioclithe  fact  was  first  recognized  that  a  new 
religion  had  appeared  in  the  world,  that  a  new  revela- 
tion had  been  made  to  men  ;  the  difference  between  the 
Jews  and  the  followers  of  Jesus,  Jews  themselves  by 
birth  and  by  religion,  was  perceived  and  appreciated : 
at  Antioch  the  believers  in  our  holy  faith  were  first  called 
by  the  name  of  Christians, 

But  intellectual  ideas  which  were  received  and  culti- 
vated at  Antioch  and  Alexandria  could  not  fail  to  receive 
admittance  at  the  home  of  all  intellect,  Athens.  The 
doctrine  of  human  unity  became  a  cherished  doctrine  in 
the  schools  which  liad  resounded  not  long  before  with  the 
utterance  of  the  exclusive  and  selfish  Hellenic  sentiment, 
that  the  Greek  is  not  as  the  barbarian,  the  bondmen  not 
as  the  free.  Three  centuries  of  preparation  passed  away, 
and  St.  Paul,  the  first  preacher  of  the  gospel  to  the 
Greeks,  could  declare  without  a  murmur  of  disapproba- 
tion, without  a  whisper  of  disgust,  the  fundamental  doc- 
trine of  the  true  and  universal  faith,  that  '  God  hath 
made  of  one  blood  all  nations  of  men  for  to  dwell  on  the 


PEEPAEATION  FOR  ST.  PAUl's  PEEACHLNG.      67 

face  of  the  earth.'  But  was  this  the  Athens  of  Solon 
and  Pericles,  and  Plato  and  Aristotle?  By  no  means: 
such  a  declaration  could  have  had  no  place  in  an  address 
to  the  Athenians  of  those  earlier  ages.  To  them  it 
would  have  sounded  strange  afid  barbarous ;  it  would 
have  been  received  witli  mockery  or  clamour ;  it  would 
have  been  repudiated  with  amazement  and  indignation  ; 
it  would  have  made  no  spiritual  impression  at  all.  Such 
an  idea  was  then  unknown  and  unimagined.  Concep- 
tions of  religion  were  then  strictly  local  and  national ; 
conceptions  of  philosophy,  though  they  might  ostensibly 
reject  the  restrictions  of  positive  faith,  were  not  the  less 
confined,  by  early  mental  training  and  still  imperious 
prejudices,  to  a  circle  in  this  respect  little,  if  at  all,  wider. 
The  bond  of  positive  belief  was  indeed  broken ;  but 
the  philosopher  dragged  after  him,  at  each  remove,  no 
light  portion  of  his  chain.  But,  after  three  centuries 
of  national  amalgamation,  the  result  of  a  wide-spread 
political  revolution,  after  the  diffusion  of  Grecian  ideas 
among  every  people  from  the  Ionian  to  the  Caspian  or 
the  Red  Sea,  and  the  reception  in  return  of  manifold 
ideas,  and  in  religious  matters  of  much  higher  ideas, 
from  the  Persian,  the  Indian,  the  Egyptian,  and  the 
Jew,  the  people  even  of  Athens,  the  very  centre  and 
eye  of  Greece,  were  prepared  to  admit  the  cardinal 
doctrine  of  Paul's  preaching — to  take  at  least  some 
common  ground  with  him  on  the  very  foundation  of 
true  religion — to  look,  perhaps,  with  the  more  favour 
upon    him,  that  he,  a  Jew,  one  of   a   tribe  notorious 


68  LECTURE  m. 

for  their  exclusiveness  and  national  prejudices,  came 
before  tliem  bowing,  as  they  might  suppose,  to  the 
majesty  of  their  own  Catholic  creed,  with  what  was 
now  in  its  turn  exalted  into  a  philosophical  doctrine — 
with  what  was  serenely  contemplated  as  a  great  and 
fruitful  truth,  revealed  to  the  wise  and  prudent,  if  even 
yet  regarded  askance  by  the  vulgar  and  illiberal  among 
men.' 

A  great  and  a  fruitful  truth !  fruitful  in  spiritual  con- 
ceptions of  the  Godhead,  fruitful  in  lofty  views  of  hu- 
man duty  and  obligation,  in  glorious  aspirations  regard- 
ing the  nature  and  destiny  of  man — a  great  and  fruitful 
truth,  the  sole  hope  and  stay  of  man  in  the  contest  of 
the  heart  and  conscience  against  the  narrow  and  debas- 
ing influence  of  superstitious  dogmas,  until  the  coming 
of  Christ  and  the  preaching  of  the  gospel,  and  the  shin- 
ing of  the  day-spring  from  on  high  upon  the  soul ! 

I  can  give  but  a  few  words  to  a  sketch  of  the  princi- 
ples derived  from  Plato,  and  developed  by  the  later  phi- 
losophy of  the  stoics,  which  placed  the  higher  minds 
among  the  heathen  in  antagonism  with  the  popular  and 
political  religion,  and  might  bring  them,  both  at  Athens 
and  at  Rome,  into  sympathetic  relation  with  the  preach- 
ing of  the  Apostle. 

The  ethical  speculations  of  Plato  and  his  followers 

led  them  to  conceptions,  hitherto  unimagined,  of  man's 

position  here  below,  of  duty  and  responsibility,  of  sin 

and  virtue,  of  penitence  and  assurance,  before  God,  of 

'  See  Note  J. 


CATHOLIC   SPIRIT   OF    STOIC   PHILOSOPHY.  69 

the  obligation  to  suffer — nay,  even  to  seek  and  court 
the  chastisement  of  sins  for  the  sake  of  a  spiritual  bless- 
ing. The  Christian  mystic  is  not  more  entranced  in  the 
contemplation  of  the  Supreme  Holiness — the  Christian 
ascetic  does  not  more  fervently  denounce  the  sinfulness 
of  the  flesh,  and  the  need  of  subjecting  the  body  to 
the  spirit — than  Plato  and  the  Stoics  who  derived  from 
him.  Sins  and  Yirtues,  in  the  view  of  the  higher  Greek 
philosophy,  are  to  be  measured  by  their  agreement  or 
contrast  with  an  ideal  of  Justice,  Wisdom,  Temperance, 
or  Fortitude — an  ideal  placed  as  high  as  mere  human 
reason  could  exalt  it.  From  these  lofty  abstractions  they 
seemed  to  realize  a  Supreme  Existence,  one  and  univer- 
sal, eternal  and  immutable — the  image  of  every  virtue, 
the  source  of  all  good,  the  sole  unerring  judge  of  every 
approximation  of  human  actions  to  the  normal  standard 
of  goodness  and  holiness.  Sin  they  punished  by  the 
stings  of  conscience,  and  thus  gave  a  spiritual'  colour  to 
the  gross  traditions  of  the  vulgar  ;  while  the  expiations, 
the  fasts,  the  lustrations  of  ritual  religion  expressed  to 
their  minds  the  necessity  of  reparation  for  crime,  and  the 
terrors  which  naturally  haunt  the  souls  of  the  guilty.  It 
is  the  offence,  and  not  the  punishment,  they  said,  that 
men  ought  to  dread ;  the  corruption  of  the  moral  sense 
by  sin,  not  the  loss  of  favours  and  blessings,  that  men 
ought  to  abhor  and  flee  from.  Like  John  the  Apostle, 
they  would  have  men  do  well  for  love,  for  love  of  good- 
ness and  justice,  not  from  fear.  And  virtue,  in  their 
view,  has  its  reward  in  a  good  conscience,  which  sufiices 


70  LECTURE   III. 

ill  every  extremity  ;  virtue  is  tlie  fulfilment  of  a  rule,  the 
realization  of  a  harmony,  the  accomplishment  of  a  divine 
purpose.  Yirtue  is  divine,  and  witnesses  to  the  divine 
nature  within  us. 

]S'ow,  such  ideas  as  these,  refined  and  exalted  as  they 
were  under  the  system  of  the  Stoics,  may  transport  us 
beyond  the  sphere  of  Greece  and  pure  Grecian  specula- 
tion. They  breathe  the  spii-it  of  Ebionites  in  the  wilder- 
ness, of  Persian  Magi  in  the  plains  of  Media,  of  Brahmins 
by  the  banks  of  the  Indus  and  the  Ganges  ;  and  it  was, 
no  doubt,  by  all  these-  and  kindred  elements  that  they 
were  modified  or  coloured.  The  fusion  of  nations  under 
one  political  yoke  tended,  I  say,  to  the  fusion  of  ideas, 
and  resulted  in  a  marked  elevation  of  heathen  sentiment. 
Compare  for  a  moment  this  teaching  with  that  of  a  Soc- 
rates and  a  Xenophon,  the  most  direct  representatives  of 
pure  Grecian  thought.  How  profound  the  difl:erence ! 
That  which  makes  the  value  of  temperance,  for  instance, 
in  the  eyes  of  these  earlier  masters,  is  that  it  assists  men 
to  act  with  manliness  and  energy ;  while  to  the  Stoics 
its  merit  consists  in  its  detaching  us  from  the  flesh,  the 
body,  and  the  earth.  Courage  again,  in  the  one  view, 
has  for  its  end  the  attainment  of  empire  or  of  liberty ;  in 
the  other,  it  is  the  complement  of  temperance,  and  for- 
tifies us  in  the  struggle  against  the  world  and  the  senses. 
Love,  in  the  one  doctrine,  is  the  expansion  and  purifica- 
tion of  mere  human  sensibility ;  in  the  other,  it  raises 
man  to  aspire  after  the  superhuman,  to  yearn  for  com- 
munion with  an  ideal,  to  seek  absorption  in  God.     It  is 


PERSONAL   EELATION   TO   GOD.  71 

the  passion  for  the  Eternal  and  the  Infinite ;  it  is,  the 
presentiment  of  Immortalit j.' 

This  presentiment,  this  aspiration,  this  hope,  and  al- 
most faith  in  immortality,  is  the  point  at  which  the  high- 
est Grecian  philosophy  culminates.  Belief  in  a  future 
state  is  the  touchstone  of  all  spiritual  conceptions  of  hu- 
man nature.  Towards  this  they  climb  step  hj  step, 
even  if  they  cannot  fully  attain  to  it,  or  keep  it  when  at- 
tained for  a  moment ;  from  this,  as  they  fall  away,  they 
faint  and  fade  into  the  earthly  and  the  sensual.  This  is 
the  great  point  of  distinction  between  moral  and  cere- 
monial religions,  between  a  rule  of  action  and  a  cult,  be- 
tween personal  and  political  conceptions  of  our  relation 
to  God  and  to  Providence. 

This  aspiration,  this  belief,  reveals  to  us  our  personal 
relation  to  a  Higher  Being.  It  equalizes  men  in  their  na- 
ture and  condition ;  it  discovers  to  them  an  essential  unity 
in  the  whole  race  of  mankind.  It  impugns  and  over- 
throws the  natural  and  ^^.llgar  demand  for  an  exclusive 
patron  Deity,  and  a  national  compact  with  him.  In  the 
more  spiritual  doctrine  of  Plato  and  the  Platonizers  lay 
undoubtedly  the  germ  of  that  transformation  of  heathen 
opinion  which  resulted,  under  the  teacliing  of  St.  Paul 
and  the  Christian  Church,  with  the  effectual  working  of 
the  Holy  Sjjirit,  in  the  conversion  of  the  Eoman  Em- 
pire." 

Yet  how  faint,  how  feeble,  how  imperfect  was  this 
doctrine  !  how  surrounded  by  prejudices,  hoAV  enfeebled 
'  See  Note  K.  "  See  Note  L. 


72 


LECTURE    in. 


and  confined  by  the  counteracting  influence  of  opposing 
ideas  !  Let  us  examine  a  little  more  closely  tlie  idea  of 
immortality  as  tauglit  by  Plato,  and  accepted  ratlier  than 
firmly  held  by  the  more  spiritual  of  the  Stoics. 

First,  the  soul,  they  said,  was  immortal,  because  it  is 
one  and  simple,  without  parts  or  material  elements,  and 
therefore  indivisible  and  indissoluble.  It  is  not  a  mere 
harmony,  resulting  from  the  contexture  of  the  body,  with 
which  it  is  here  found  in  connection  ;  for  it  commands 
and  dominates  over  the  body  as  an  independent  substance. 
It  has  nothing  to  fear,  then,  from  the  dissolution  of  the 
body,  which  is  not  itself  essential  to  its  existence.  J^or 
has  it  any  principle  of  decay  or  corruption  of  its  own  ; 
for  sin  is  its  only  infirmity,  and  sin,  as  an  abstract  prin- 
ciple, has  no  tendency  to  destroy  it. 

Again,  the  eternal  truths  or  the  ideas  which  are  sim- 
ple, immutable  and  divine,  are  the  natural  objects  of  the 
soul  of  man.  The  soul  is  therefore  analogous  and  con- 
formable to  things  that  do  not  change,  and  accordingly 
has  itself,  like  them,  a  principle  of  immortality. 

Such  are,  the  one  the  physical,  the  other  what  I  may 
call  perhaps  the  sentimental  argument,  on  which  Plato 
strongly  insists,  and  to  which  we  may  continue  to  attach 
such  weight  as  is  really  due  to  them,  without  depending 
wholly  or  even  principally  upon  them.  For  there  is  a 
third  demonstration  from  the  moral  nature  of  man,  and 
this  the  strongest  of  all  unrevealed  arguments  for  the  per- 
manent existence  of  the  soul,  which  rests  on  the  need  of  a 
future  state  of  retribution  to  equalize  human  conditions, 


STOIC    THEORY   OF   EETEIBUTION.  73 

to  recompense  virtue  and  punisli  sin,  to  relieve  man  from 
the  intolerable  anguish  of  beholding  the  sufferings  of  the 
good,  and  the  prosperity  here  on  earth  of  the  wicked. 
This  is  the  common  argument  of  Christianity,  which  de- 
clares the  vindication  of  God's  justice  and  moral  govern- 
ment as  a  main  object  of  revelation.  But  turn  to  Plato 
and  the  Stoics,  and  but  little  reference  will  you  find  to  any 
argument  of  this  kind.  They  may,  indeed,  set  forth  the 
fact  of  a  future  retribution  as  the  explanation  of  certain 
ancient  traditions;  they  employ  the  machinery  of  the 
old  mythology  in  this  particular,  however  little  regard 
they  pay  to  it  in  others,  to  recommend  what  they  believe 
to  be  a  real  moral  truth,  under  the  veil  of  a  poetic  il- 
lustration. But  this  is  merely  playing  with  the  subject. 
It  is  dallying  with  tlie  truth,  not  embracing  and  earnest- 
ly maintaining  it.  And  whence  does  it  appear  that  the 
philosophers  had  no  earnest  faith  in  a  future  retribution  ? 
From  the  pertinacity  with  which  they  still  cling,  even 
Plato  and  the  most  spiritual  among  them,  to  the  low  and 
popular  notion  that  virtue  must  certainly  be  adequately 
rewarded,  vice  adequately  punished,  under  God's  provi- 
dence, even  in  this  life.  They  insist  on  the  paradox, 
common,  I  say,  to  the  sages  and  to  the  vulgar  of  old,  to 
the  paradox  necessary  to  all  moral  systems  which  deny  a 
future  retribution,  but  required  least  of  all  by  that  of  a 
Plato,  which  in  terms  at  least  admits  it,  that  the  virtuous 
man  is  necessarily  happy,  and  the  vicious  necessarily 
wretched  ;  that  virtue  is  its  own  reward,  and  sin  its  own 
punishment ;  that  the  tyrant  on  the  throne  is  always,  by 


74  LECTUKE  in. 

the  law  and  nature  of  things,  miserable — ^miserable,  at 
least,  in  comparison  with  tlie  triumphant  happiness  of  the 
good  man,  even  in  the  dungeon  and  on  the  scaifold.  So 
far  were  the  heathen  teachers  of  immortality  from  the 
feeling  of  St.  Paul,  that  the  Christian  saint,  the  man  who 
has  attained  the  highest  pitch  of  grace  and  godliness, 
would  be,  in  times  at  least  of  worldly  trial  and  persecu- 
tion, were  his  hope  bounded  by  this  life  and  its  recom- 
penses, of  all  men  most  miserable. 

But  the  fact  is,  that  it  is  with  faint  surmises  and 
stammering  lips  only  that  even  Plato  and  the  most  spir- 
itual of  his  followers  could  enunciate  the  dogma  of  Im- 
mortality. Even  under  the  humanizing  sway  of  the 
Third  Empire,  amid  the  development  of  cosmopolitan 
sentiments  which  that  sway,  as  we  have  seen,  engender- 
ed, the  philosophers  could  with  difficulty  keep  hold  of 
the  sense  of  Human  Equality —  of  the  common  claims 
of  all  men  on.  a  common  God  and  Father  of  all — which 
is  essential  to  a  steadfast  and  consistent  view  of  so  spir- 
itual a  belief.  It  is  upon  the  doctrine  of  human  equality 
in  the  forum  of  conscience,  in  the  view  of  a  retributive 
justice,  that  the  conception  of  a  real  immortality  must 
actually  rest.  The  philosophers,  aristocrats  as  they  gen- 
erally were  (from  Plato  downwards),  could  not  shake  oif 
the  notion  of  an  aristocracy  among  souls.  They  might 
see,  indeed,  in  the  noblest  specimens  of  humanity,  some 
beings,  outwardly  not  unlike  to  the  rest  of  their  kind, 
yet  inwardly,  as  they  imagined,  different  and  superior, 
bearing  a  nearer  kinship  to  Divinity  itself,  of  whom  they 


STOIC    COXCITPTION^   OF    A   FUTUKE    STATE.  75 

could  imagine  that  after  deatli  they  might  be  received 
into  the  bh'ss  of  the  Divine  Being,  absorbed  in  His  na- 
ture ;  of  whom  thev  could  not,  perhaps,  conceive  it  pos- 
sible that,  so  noble,  so  generous,  so  godlike,  they  should 
utterly  perish  along  with  the  baser  clay  around  them. 
But  such  instances,  in  their  view,  were  rare ;  the  mass 
of  men  could  not  hope  to  attain  to  such  distinction :  the 
difference  between  man  and  man  seemed  to  them  coeval 
with  their  birth,  or  anterior  to  it,  to  lie  in  the  very  es- 
sence of  their  natures,  as  much  as  if  they  descended  orig- 
inally from  various  stocks.  And  when  they  looked 
around  them,  and  observed  the  social  institution  of  slavery 
always  like  a  ghost  or  shadow  at  their  side, — the  skeleton 
in  their  house,  the  death's  head  on  their  table, — ever 
crying  out  for  an  explanation  and  a  justification,  and  of 
which  no  explanation,  no  justification  could  be  given, 
but  the  presumed  superiority  of  race  to  race,  a  higher 
calling  and  an  ampler  destiny ; — wlien  they  saw  this  fact, 
and  were  driven  to  this  apology  for  its  existence,  no  won- 
der if  their  ideas  of  immortality  Avere  vague,  imperfect, 
and  precarious.' 

At  the  best,  then,  the  Stoic  conception  of  a  future 
state  was  of  reward  and  glory  due  to  some  men — to  a  se- 
lect class  of  men — to  a  few  men  perhaps  in  each  genera- 
tion, leaders  in  thought  or  action,  heroes,  demigods;  but 
it  left  the  case  of  the  multitude  wholly  out  of  considera- 
tion. It  maimed  the  whole  doctrine  of  future  compen- 
sation. It  threw  the  philosopher  back,  against  his  will 
'  See  Note  M. 


76  LECTUEE  m. 

— against  tlie  tenor  of  his  general  reasoning — in  spite  of 
the  plain  inconsistency  in  which  it  involved  him,  upon 
the  rash  and  crude  paradox  of  a  recompense  here  below 
— upon  the  fallacious  assertion  that  the  good  man  is  nec- 
essarily happy  in  this  life,  the  bad  man  necessarily  mis- 
erable. It  drove  him  to  forced  and  extravagant  defini- 
tions of  the  highest  good,  and  the  genuine  character  of 
virtue,  and  set  his  hand  at  last  against  every  sensible  man, 
and  every  sensible  man's  hand  against  him. 

To  resume,  then:  the  philosophy  of  the  Stoics, 
the  highest  and  holiest  moral  theory  at  the  time  of  our 
Lord's  coming — the  theory  which  most  worthily  contended 
against  the  merely  political  religion  of  the  day,  the  theory 
which  opposed  the  purest  ideas  and  the  loftiest  aims  to 
the  grovelling  principles  of  a  narrow  and  selfish  expedi- 
ency on  which  the  frame  of  the  heathen  ritual  rested — 
was  the  direct  creation  of  the  sense  of  unity  and  equal- 
ity disseminated  among  the  choicer  spirits  of  heathen 
society  by  the  results  of  the  Macedonian  conquest.  But 
for  that  conquest  it  could  hardly  have  existed  at  all. 
It  was  the  philosophy  of  Plato,  sublimed  and  harmoniz- 
ed by  the  political  circumstances  of  the  times.  It  was 
what  Plato  would  have  imagined,  had  he  been  a  subject 
of  Alexander. 

It  taught  nominally,  at  least,  the  equality  of  all  God's 
children — of  Greek  and  barbarian,  of  bond  and  free. 
It  renounced  the  exclusive  ideas  of  the  commonwealth 
on  which  Plato  had  made  shipwreck  of  his  consistency. 
It  declared  that  to  the  wise  man  all  the  world  is  his 


LIMITATION   OF   THIS   TIIEOEY.  77 

country.  It  was  thoroughly  comprehensive  and  cosmo- 
politan. Instead  of  a  political  union,  it  preached  the 
moral  union  of  all  good  men — a  city  of  true  philoso- 
phers, a  community  of  religious  sentiment,  a  communion 
of  saints,  to  be  developed  partly  here  below,  but  more 
consummately  in  the  future  state  of  a  glorified  hereaf- 
ter.' It  aspired,  at  least,  to  the  doctrine  of  an  immortal 
city  of  the  soul,  a  providence  under  which  that  immor- 
tality was  to  be  gained,  a  reward  for  the  good — possibly, 
l)ut  even  more  dubiously,  a  punishment  for  the  wicked. 
So,  in  theory  at  least,  it  seemed  to  rise  to  the  ideas  of 
Christianity  ;  it  might  seem  a  precursor  of  the  Gospel, 
it  might  be  hailed  as  an  ally  in  the  wars  of  the  Holy 
Spirit.  But  the  weakness  of  its  support,  the  barrennes-s 
of  its  alliance,  became  manifest  on  a  nearer  inspection. 
For  the  immortality  it  augured  was  limited  in  time  to  a 
certain  cosmical  revolution,  which  should  close  in  a  gen- 
eral conflagration,  in  which  gods  and  men,  bodies  and 
souls,  earth  and  heaven,  should  perish.  It  was  limited 
in  subject ;  for  it  was  after  all  limited,  according  to  the 
concurrent  voice  of  all  Grecian  theory,  to  a  select  class 
— an  aristocracy,  as  I  have  called  it,  of  souls :  those  who 
could  scale  the  heights  of  excellence  here  might  alone 
expect  a  higher  exaltation  hereafter ;  those  who  stumbled 
and  fell  at  tlieir  base,  would  lie  there  forgotten  or  perish 
altogether.  It  was  limited,  further,  in  the  nature  of  its 
promised  retribution ;  for  generally,  though  with  much 
fluctuation  and  variety  of  opinion,  it  was  held  that  the 
•  See  Note  N. 


78  LECTURE  m. 

only  punishment  of  the  wicked  was  the  common  fate  of 
the  less  worthy — annihilation.  Once  more  it  was  limit- 
ed in  its  conception  of  God;  for  its  aspirations  after 
Providence  alternated  with  an  apprehension  of  Fate, 
which  it  sometimes  confounded  with  the  Deity,  some- 
times set  over  Him  and  against  Plim. 

Nevertheless,  when  St.  Paul,  standing  on  Mars's  Hill 
at  Athens,  proclaimed  that  '  God  hath  made  of  one  blood 
all  nations  of  men,' — when,  addressing  the  Romans,  he 
declared  that  '  we,  being  many,  are  one  body  in  Christ, 
and  every  one  members  one  of  another,' ' — he  knew  that 
in  the  loftiest  school  of  Gentile  philosophy  he  should 
strike  a  chord  of  sympathy.  He  recognised  the  Spirit  of 
God  brooding  over  the  face  of  heathenism,  and  fructify- 
ing the  spiritual  element  in  the  heart  even  of  the  natural 
man.  He  felt  that  in  these  human  principles  there  was 
some  faint  adumbration  of  the  divine,  and  he  looked  for 
their  firmer  delineation  to  the  figure  of  that  gracious 
Master,  higher  and  holier  than  man,  whom  he  contem- 
plated in  his  own  imagination,  and  whom  ho  was  about 
to  present  to  them.  And  such  is  the  vision,  such  the 
augury,  to  which  the  great  Augustine  appeals,  when  in 
words  of  rude  impassioned  energy,  with  which,  as  a  ves- 
sel ploughs  the  deep  with  unequal  plunges,  he  seems  to 
fall  or  rise,  to  shoot  forth  or  stagger  in  his  career,  he  ex- 
claims:' 'Now,  had  one  of  his  disciples  asked  of  Plato, 
when  he  was  teaching  that  Truth  cannot  be  Avitnessed  by 
the  bodily  eyes,  but  by  the  pure  intellect  only — that 
'  Romans  xii.  G.  =  Sec  Note  0. 


KEED   OF    A    DIVOE   TEACHER   OF    nUIORTALITV.         79 

every  soul  wliicli  thereto  attaches  itself  becomes  happy 
and  perfect — that  there  is  no  hindrance  so  great  to  he- 
holding  Truth  as  a  life  abandoned  to  sensual  passions — 
that  therefore  we  should  heal  and  purge  the  soul,  to  con- 
template the  immutable  forms  of  things,  and  this  beauty 
ever  the  same,  without  bounds  in  space,  without  change 
in  time,  in  the  existence  of  which  men  believe  not,  though 
alone  it  exists  and  reigns  ; — that  all  things  are  born  and 
perish,  flow  away  and  are  lost,  while  as  far  as  they  do 
possess  reality,  and  thereby  only,  they  belong  to  God 
eternal,  who  creates  and  sustains  them ;  that,  among 
these,  it  is  given  to  the  soul  and  pure  intelligence  only 
to  enjoy  and  apprehend  the  contemplation  of  eternity, 
and  hereby  to  merit  eternal  life; — ^but  that  when  the  soul 
is  corrupted  by  the  love  for  things  created  and  perisha- 
ble, it  fades  away  in  its  vain  imaginations,  mocking  for- 
sooth at  those  who  speak  of  a  Being  wdio  is  not  beheld  by 
the  eye  or  conceived  under  sensible  images,  but  is  seen 
by  the  mind  only : — had,  I  say,  at  the  moment  when 
Plato  was  preaching  ideas  so  lofty,  one  of  his  disciples 
asked  of  him,  saying.  Master,  if  one  so  great  and  godlike 
should  ever  appear,  who  should  persuade  men  to  helieve 
in  these  things  at  least,  even  thougli  they  could  not  un- 
derstand them,  would  you  deem  him  worthy  of  divine 
honours  ? — Plato,  I  believe,  would  have  replied,  that  such 
things  could  not  be  effected  by  man,  unless  the  very  Vir- 
tue and  Wisdom  of  God  should  withdraw  him  from  the 
common  nature  of  things,  and,  not  by  human  teaching, 
but  bv  its  own   divine  illumination,  so  adorn  him  with 


80  LECTUEE   ni. 

grace,  so  establisli  him  in  power,  so  exalt  him  in  majesty, 
as  that,  despising  all  that  men  desire,  enduring  all  they 
shrink  from,  effecting  all  they  admire,  he  should  convert 
mankind  to  this  most  wholesome  faith,  by  the  highest 
love  and  authority.' 

And  there,  Ecce  homo  ! — Behold  the  man  ! — Jesus 
Christ,  the  Son  of  God,  conceived  by  the  Holy  Ghost ; 
to  whom,  three  Persons  and  one  God,  be  ascribed,  &c. 


LECTUKE    IV. 

EXP^YNSIOX   OF  HEATHEN    BELIEF  BY  THE  IDEAS  OF  ROMAN 
JURISPKUDENCE. 

Galatiaists  III.  24. 
The  law  teas  our  schoolmaster  to  iring  its  tinto  Christ. 

Our  version  of  tliis  text  may  suggest  to  the  English 
reader  a  notion  not  quite  consistent  with  the  sense  which 
the  Apostle's  language  seems  really  meant  to  convey. 
The  law  is  here  represented,  not  as  the  master,  the  teach- 
er, the  men  in  office  and  authority,  the  diddcKaXoq  of  the 
school,  but  as  the  TrattJaywybc,  the  faithful  attendant,  who 
brought  the  scholar  to  the  master,  guiding  and  urging 
his  steps,  bearing  his  satchel  for  him,  by  the  direction  of 
the  parent  whose  servant  he  was.  St.  Paul,  speaking 
here  du'ectly  and  primarily  to  the  Jewish  residents  in 
Galatia,  compares  the  province  of  the  Jewish  law,  the 
law  of  Moses,  in  relation  to  Christ,  to  that  of  the  peda- 
gogue. For  its  proper  office  was  thus  to  direct  and  con- 
trol, under  a  special  appointment,  the  wandering  steps 
of  God's  own  children,  and  see  that  they  came  without 
fail  to  the  presence  of  the  master,  who  was  to  take  the 
place  of  their  heavenly  Father  as  the  teacher  and  educa- 


82  LECTUEE   IV. 

tor  of  tlieir  souls.  St.  Paul  does  not  pretend  tliat  the 
old  law  tauglit  the  children  of  Israel  any  spiritual  lessons 
itself,  but  merely  that  it  brought  them  to  the  point  at 
which  their  spiritual  teaching  was  to  begin.  And  that 
teaching  was  the  discipline  of  Christ's  holy  faith. 

Such,  it  seems,  in  the  Apostle's  view,  was  the  ministry 
of  the  law  of  Moses.  But  does  he  here  or  elsewhere  con- 
tine  his  view  of  the  law,  of  which  he  speaks  so  much  in 
relation  to  its  contrast  or  subserviency  to  the  gospel,  to 
the  law  of  Moses  ?  When  he  speaks  of  the  law,  there  is 
generally  an  ulterior  object  in  view,  just  as,  when  he  ad- 
dresses himself  directly  to  the  Jews,  he  has  generally 
other  classes  of  hearers  in  mind  also. 

Let  us  regard,  then,  more  particularly  the  composition 
of  the  congregations  to  which  he  was  wont  to  address 
himself.  We  must  bear  in  mind  how  closely  the  Jews 
of  the  dispersion,  the  men  of  Hebrew  birth  and  lineage 
who  were  settled  in  every  land  and  city  throughout  the 
East,  and  far  into  the  West  also,  were  connected  with 
native  proselytes — men  of  Greek,  or  Syrian,  or  Italian, 
or  other  parentage,  who  had  been  received  as  converts 
into  the  Jewish  synagogues — made  in  many  cases  Jews 
themselves  by  baptism,  by  circumcision,  by  abstinence, 
by  fulfilling  all  the  requirements  of  the  law — admitted 
not  less  seldom,  perhaps  more  commonly,  to  a  status  of 
partial  communion  with  it,  without  being  subjected  to 
its  most  onerous  obligations.  Even  among  tlie  '  Gala- 
tians'  to  whom  the  Apostle  writes — though  these  are 
evidently  for  the  most  part  genuine  children  of  Israel,  we 


ST.  Paul's  view  of  '  the  law.'  83 

cannot  completely  separate  the  Jews  by  birth  and  breed- 
ing from  the  proselytes  of  the  gate  or  the  proselytes  of 
righteousness.  The  Apostle  is  anxious  to  impress  upon 
them  that  the  Jew  and  the  Gentile  among  them  are  both 
one  in  his  sight — that  the  right  of  circumcision  is  not  re- 
quired to  effect  complete  equality  in  their  spiritual  privi- 
leges in  Christ — that  there  is  henceforth  no  distinction 
between  Jew  and  Greek,  but  all  who  are  baptized  into 
Christ  have  put  on  Christ.  '  And  if,'  he  says, '  ye  be  the 
seed  of  Christ,  then  are  ye  Abraham's  seed,'  whatever 
your  actual  parentage  has  been,  '  and  heirs  according  to 
the  promise,' — that  is,  to  the  promise  made  to  Abraham 
that  in  his  seed  all  the  families  of  the  earth  should  be 
blessed.  Even  the  '  Galatians,'  then,  were  a  mixed  con- 
gregation of  Jewish  and  Gentile  believers. 

The  epistles  of  St.  Paul  are  all,  I  think,  directed 
more  or  less  to  such  mixed  congregations  (the  pastoral 
Epistles,  of  course,  excepted),  and  all,  as  coming  from 
liim  who  declared  himself  to  be  especially  the  Apostle  to 
the  Gentiles,  breathe  more  or  less  the  same  Catholic 
spirit.  But  the  character  of  this  preaching  most  clearly 
appears  from  a  reference  to  the  Epistle  to  the  Romans. 
We  may  picture  to  ourselves  the  Jewish  synagogue  at 
Rome  as  crowded  with  devotees  of  Jewish,  of  Greek,  and 
of  Roman  extraction ;  of  Jews  who  had  migrated  from 
the  land  of  their  origin,  perhaps  of  their  birth,  to  carry 
on  their  business  of  various  kinds  in  the  capital  of  the 
empire ;  of  Greeks,  who,  like  them,  flocked  in  vast  num- 
bers to  the  same  great  centre  of  all  employments,  of  all 


84  LECTURE   IV. 

opinions  and  teacliing,  to  hear  and  speak  of  every  new 
thing ;  of  Eomans,  who,  after  conqnering  and  making 
triljutary  both  Jews  and  Greeks,  began  to  open  their  eyes 
to  the  wondrous  gifts,  intellectual  and  spiritual,  of  their 
Hebrew  and  Hellenic  subjects, — to  acknowledge  that, 
with  all  their  own  power  and  greatness,  they  had  much — 
yea,  everything  to  learn,  and  that  it  was  from  Greece 
and  from  Palestine  that  their  destined  teachers  had 
come. 

Of  the  sympathy,  indeed,  of  both  the  Greeks  and  Ho- 
mans  with  the  Jews  at  this  period,  history  ailbrds  abun- 
dant evidence.  The  influence  exercised  by  the  children 
of  Israel,  in  the  court  and  in  the  market-place,  over  the 
minds  and  the  mamiers  of  the  Gentiles  around  them,  was 
singularly  strong  at  this  period — a  period  of  great  intel- 
lectual and  spiritual  excitement ;  but,  strongly  as  these 
Jewish  habits  of  thought  now  affected  the  seekers  after 
spiritual  and  moral  truth  among  the  Gentiles,  stronger 
still  was  the  impulse  they  received  from  the  first  breath- 
ins:  of  the  accents  of  a  new  revelation  in  Christ — a  reve- 
lation  within  a  revelation,  a  spiritual  empire  within  a 
spiritual  empire.  The  proselytes  of  the  Jewish  law, 
Greek  and  Koman,  scarcely  yet  recovered  from  the  ex- 
citement, the  intoxication,  of  finding  themselves  admitted 
to  communion  with  a  religion  of  real  signs  and  wonders, 
of  genuine  inspiration  and  enlightenment  from  above, 
were  suddenly  invited  to  take  a  step  further,  to  pene- 
trate beyond  the  veil,  to  receive  a  higher  initiation,  to 
share  in  a  holier  covenant,  and  enjoy  a  nearer  and  an 


WHAT   ST.    PAUL   PEEACHED   TO   TUE   ROMANS.  85 

ampler  manifestation  of  God.  They  were  called  to  Christ, 
and  they  came  to  Christ.  The  synagogues  of  the  Law, 
so  lately  thronged  with  admiring  converts  from  Greece 
and  Rome,  were  again  abandoned  for  the  more  private 
and  retired  churches,  the  little  spiritual  reunions,  of  the 
converts  to  the  Gospel.  The  Synagogue  itself  was  car- 
ried over  to  the  Church.  Even  from  the  names  of  these 
earliest  disciples  whom  the  Apostle  specially  greeted,  we 
may  fairly  infer,  though  the  argument,  I  am  aware,  is 
not  conclusive,  that  the  Church  of  Rome,  the  Church  of 
St.  Paul's  Epistle,  the  Church  of  the  first  imperial  perse- 
cution, embraced  communicants  from  each  of  the  three 
rival  nationalities. 

In  all  ages  of  the  separation  the  Jews  have  kept  up 
close  and  active  correspondence  with  their  brethren,  and 
the  settler  or  exile  on  the  Tiber  or  the  Euphrates  was  made 
familiar  with  every  movement,  political  or  spiritual,  in 
the  City  of  David,  And  hence  we  may  divine,  though 
we  cannot  trace,  how  these  people  derived  their  knowl- 
edge of  the  ferment  of  religious  convictions  which  w-as 
now  taking  place  in  Palestine.  It  was  communicated,  no 
doubt,  through  various  channels,  coloured  by  the  preju- 
dices of  various  narrators,  received  in  various  tempers. 
The  truth  was  at  first  but  imperfectly  understood,  but 
partially  accepted.  Tlie  Apostle  addresses  converts  and 
believers  in  the  revelation  of  Christ, — but  as  men  infirm 
in  their  faith,  imperfect  in  their  lesson,  ignorant  of  much 
saving  knowledge,  as  yet  hardly  prepared  to  embrace 
without  reserve  the  tidings  which  they  deemed  too  surely 


86  LECTURE  IV. 

to  announce  the  overthrow  of  an  ancient  and  august 
religion.  What  a  further  pang  would  they  feel  in  the 
abruptness  of  the  announcement !  Jews  who  had  so 
lately  received  into  their  fold  not  a  few  of  the  choicest 
spirits  among  the  Greeks  and  Romans  around  them — 
men,  I  doubt  not,  of  learning,  women  of  fervour  and 
godly  zeal ;  Jews  who,  expatriated  from  their  own  con- 
quered country,  could  retaliate  upon  their  conquerors 
with  the  keen  gratification  of  a  spiritual  triumph ;  Greeks 
and  Romans,  who  had  swallowed  the  bitter  pill  of  a  re- 
ligious abjuration — who  liad  nerved  themselves  to  re- 
nounce their  national  faith,  national  usages,  national  ideas, 
by  which  the  spiritual  pride  of  both  Greek  and  Roman 
was  equally  fostered :  Jews,  I  say,  Greeks  and  Romans, 
in  this  hour  of  high-wrought  feeling,  were  required  sud- 
denly to  abandon  together  the  very  creed  which  the  one 
had  imposed,  the  others  had  accepted,  to  bow  their  knees 
to  the  crucified  Lord  set  up  for  their  future  Master,  and 
acknowledge  that  all  that  appears  to  be  wisdom  and  hon- 
our and  majesty  and  power  in  the  sight  of  Jew  or  Gen- 
tile is  but  foolishness  with  God  !  Such  were  the  people 
— and  such  the  feelings  which  animated  them — to  whom 
St.  Paul  addresses  the  Epistle  to  the  Romans. 

What,  then,  was  it  that  he  had  to  say  unto  them  ? 
What  was  the  central  idea,  by  explaining  and  enfonnng 
which  he  might  hope  to  reconcile  them  to  the  faith  he 
preached  ?  '  The  law,'  he  says,  '  of  the  spirit  of  life  in 
Christ  Jesus  hath  made  me  free  from  the  law  of  sin  and 
death.'  .  .  .  '  What  the  law  could  not  do,  in  that  it  was 


"WHAT    ST.    PAUL    PREACHED   TO   THE    EO]\rAJ^TS.  87 

weak  tlirougli  the  flesh,  God  sending  His  own  Son  in  the 
likeness  of  sinful  flesh,  .  .  .  condemned  sin  in  the 
flesh.'  '  I  delight  in  the  law  of  God  after  the  inward 
man.' '  In  these  and  other  passages  that  might  be  cited, 
you  And  the  same  idea  as  that  of  our  text,  from  Gala- 
tians — that  the  law  is  our  pedagogue,  leading  us  unto 
Christ  the  Master.  '  The  law  '  is  the  teaching  of  the  hu- 
man conscience,  generally — whether  enlightened  by  a 
revelation  given  unto  men  through  Moses  and  the  proph- 
ets, or  by  any  other  less  special  illumination  from  above — 
by  the  habits  and  ideas  of  human  society  in  all  its  various 
phases :  it  is  every  moral  principle  of  action  whereby  we 
feel  ourselves  allowed,  forbidden,  or  excused,  in  our  deal- 
ings with  men  and  our  behaviour  towards  God.  If  St. 
Paul  in  the  Epistle  to  the  Komans,  and  throughout  his 
Epistles,  points  primarily  to  the  contrast  between  the 
law  of  Moses  and  the  law  of  Christ — making  the  one  the 
preparation  or  pedagogue  for  the  other — not  less  may  we 
trace  in  them  the  bolder  and  broader  idea  of  a  distinc- 
tion between  the  law  of  man  in  general  and  the  law  of 
God,  and  the  way  in  which  the  first  leads  up  to  and  in- 
troduces the  second.  He  reveals  the  appointment  of  a 
new  law  to  supplant  and  supersede  the  older — or,  more 
properly,  to  explain,  expand,  and  imbue  it  with  a  new 
spirit ;  to  vivify  the  letter ;  to  be  a  liberal  gloss  upon  a 
rigid  text,  adapted  at  first  under  God's  appointment  to 
special  ends  and  confined  within  narrow  limits.  Such 
was  the  form  under  which  the  Holy  Spirit  directed  the 

'  Romans  riii.  2,  3 ;  vii.  22. 


88  LECTUEE   IV. 

saving  truths  of  the  gospel  to  be  promulgated,  in  the  first 
instance,  at  Eome,  to  a  mixed  congregation  of  Greek  and 
Eoman  proselytes,  asking  dubiously  for  the  new  light 
which  had  arisen  in  the  eastern  horizon,  the  dawn  of 
which  had  as  yet  hardly  streaked  the  clouds  beyond  the 
Ionian  and  the  Egean. 

Let  us  regard  the  text,  then,  in  this  wider  sense ;  that 
the  law  of  the  Eoman  world,  the  law  which  ruled  the 
liearts  and  hands  of  the  subjects  of  Caesar's  empire, 
Greek  and  Eoman,  was  in  itself  a  schoolmaster,  or  rather 
a  pedagogue,  leading  men  to  Christ,  to  the  knowledge 
and  acceptance  of  the  gospel.  I  wish  to  show  how  the 
progress  and  development  of  the  Eoman  civil  law  assist- 
ed in  the  transformation  of  religious  ideas  among  the 
heathen,  and  in  that  conversion  of  the  Eoman  empire 
which  is  the  subject  before  us. 

In  my  last  addi'ess,  I  referred  to  Daniel's  prophetic 
interpretation  of  the  vision  of  the  third  or  Macedonian 
empire.  I  showed  the  important  part  that  empire  had 
played  in  preparing  mankind  for  the  reception  of  the 
great  gospel  truth  of  the  unity  of  man,  and  the  equality 
of  all  classes  and  races  in  the  sight  of  God  tlieir  Creator  ; 
I  remarked  how  wortliy  such  a  polity  must  appear  to  be- 
come the  subject  of  an  inspired  communication  from  the 
Author  of  Divine  Eevelation. 

Of  the  announcement,  similarly  conveyed,  in  the 
same  place  in  Scripture,  of  the  fourth  kingdom,  the  Eo- 
man empire,  a  similar  view  may  be  taken — of  the  beast, 
dreadful  and  terrible,  and  strong  exceedingly,  with  great 


TUE    FOUKTU    KINGDOM.  89 

iron  teeth,  •wliicli  devoured  and  brake  in  pieces,  and 
stamped  tlie  residne  with  the  feet  of  it ;  which,  according 
to  the  interpretation  of  the  prophet,  should  be  a  fourth 
kingdom  upon  the  earth,  diverse  from  all  kingdoms,  and 
should  devour  the  whole  earth,  and  tread  it  down  and 
break  it  in  pieces.' 

The  part  performed  by  the  Koman  empire  in  the 
course  of  religious  history  is  great,  and  may  be  traced  in 
many  directions.  I  speak  now  of  the  preparation  it 
made  for  the  reception  of  Christian  ideas  in  one  particu- 
lar only.  The  Macedonian  empire  tended  to  create,  to 
foster,  and  fix  in  men's  minds  the  conviction  of  spiritual 
unity,  by  the  mild  influence  of  the  Grecian  civilization, 
by  softening  and  humanizing  men's  manners  after  a  sin- 
gle type ;  by  bidding  them  look  to  a  common  standard 
of  art  and  science,  of  moral  and  social  culture ;  by  diffus- 
ing a  social  harmony  throughout  the  various  races  of 
mankind,  now  first  brought  under  a  common  political  or- 
ganization. The  character  of  the  Eoman  conquest  was 
'  diverse '  from  this.  It  is  well  described  in  the  sacred 
record  as  devouring,  breaking  in  pieces,  and  treading 
under  foot.  The  tribes  of  serfs  and  barbarians  might 
hail  the  Greek  as  a  deliverer  and  a  civilizer ;  the  same 
nations  cowered  before  the  Roman  as  a  tjTant  and  a  de- 
stroyer. The  union  with  which  the  Koman  legions 
threatened  them  was  not  the  union  of  social  quality  and 
mutual  improvement,  but  the  bond  of  a  slave  to  his  mas- 
ter, of  a  captive  to  his  enthraller.     The  world  seemed 

'  Daniel  vii.  7,  23. 


90  LECTURE   IV. 

for  a  moment  to  succumb  ^-itliout  liope  for  the  future 
under  tlie  yoke  of  brute  force  and  violence,  tearing  and 
destroying  rather  than  consolidating.  Nevertheless, 
Providence  had  its  blessed  vrork  of  union  to  carry  to  its 
accomplishment,  and  it  could  use  even  this  cruel  and 
destroying  kingdom  for  that  beneficent  purpose,  even 
against  its  own  apparent  nature.  The  conqueriug  Ko- 
raan  long  carried  with  him  his  peculiar  law  and  usage, 
and  imposed  them  upon  the  subject  peoples  ;  but  his  con- 
quests rapidly  outran  his  power  to  fuse  and  consolidate  ; 
and  at  last  against  his  will,  in  contradiction  to  his  politi- 
cal principles,  in  despite  of  his  religious  convictions, 
against  every  appearance  and  natural  expectation  both 
of  tlie  conqueror  and  the  conquered,  he  found  his  own 
law  and  usage  turned  against  himself,  and  that  which 
was  the  narrowest  and  most  selfish  and  most  exclusive 
of  all  human  codes  of  jurisprudence  expanded  by  an 
unseen  power  and  an  irresistible  tendency,  till  it  be- 
came the  most  potent  of  all  human  instruments  in  es- 
tablishing the  conviction  of  unity  and  equality  among 
men. 

"We  have  seen  how  strongly  national  and  exclusive  in 
its  sanctions,  its  warnings,  and  its  promises,  was  the  char- 
acter of  the  Roman  religion  ;  how  the  religious  convic- 
tions of  the  great  conqueriug  race  were  founded  upon  the 
assurance  of  the  special  favour  of  their  national  divini- 
ties, confirmed  to  them  by  a  long  succession  of  national 
triumphs.  We  have  seen  how  deeply  this  sentiment  w^as 
seated,  and  how  quickly  it  responded  to  the  appeal  of  an 


THE   CIVIL   LAW   OF   THE   E0MAN9.  91 

astute  or  fanatical  ruler.  ISTowliere  did  this  narrow  creed 
and  selfish  sentiment  find  a  plainer  or  more  powerful  ex- 
pression than  in  the  original  constitution  of  the  civil  law. 
The  civil  law  of  the  Romans,  like  the  canon  law  of 
Christian  communities,  was  the  creation  of  the  priest- 
hood, and  bore  a  deep  impression  of  its  sacerdotal  origin. 
It  was  founded  on  a  religious  tradition.  It  treated  all  the 
great  subjects  of  jurisprudence — the  relations  of  family, 
property,  marriage,  testaments,  and  contracts — as  mat- 
ters of  religious  import.  It  placed  men  under  the  guar- 
dianshij)  of  the  national  divinities  ;  it  regarded  them  all 
as  means  to  one  chief,  all-engrossing  end — the  conserva- 
tion of  the  State,  the  advancement  of  the  presumed  de- 
signs of  the  special  Providence  which  kept  eternal  watch 
and  ward  over  Rome  and  the  Roman  people. 

I  cannot  enter  now  into  details,  but  you  may  remark 
how  from  this  crude  original  germ,  from  this  unpromis- 
ing stock,  this  wildest  of  wild  olive  trees,  the  primitive 
law  of  the  Roman  commonwealth,  of  which  even  the 
Twelve  Tables  were  a  liberal  expansion,  has  sprung  by 
suxjcessive  grafts,  by  additions  and  modifications,  and 
glosses  and  commentaries — by  the  casting  ofi^  of  the  old 
slough  or  rind  in  one  place,  by  the  assimilation  of  new 
ideas  in  another,  by  growth  and  obsolescence,  by  cor- 
ruption and  renovation — sometimes,  possibly,  through 
caprice — more  commonly,  more  regularly,  more  system- 
atically, from  shrewd  observation  and  philosophical  re- 
flection,— ^lias  sprung,  I  say,  the  world-wide  elastic  system 
of  jurisprudence  by  which  the  great  Roman  empire,  with 


92  LECTUEE   IV 

all  its  boundless  variety  of  races,  creeds,  and  manners, 
was  for  ages  harmoniously  and  equitably  governed ;  which 
was  accepted  and  ratified  as  an  eternal  possession  by  the 
same  empire  when  it  found  itself  Christian,  and  has  been 
proved  to  satisfy  the  principles  of  law  and  justice  an- 
nounced by  a  religion  which  alone  proclaimed  and  main- 
tains as  its  foundation  the  unity  and  equality  of  men ; 
the  impartial  providence  of  the  Deity  ;  the  abolition  of 
all  national  distinctions  in  the  Divine  economy ;  a  city 
of  God  and  a  kingdom  of  heaven ;  finally,  a  jurispru- 
dence which  has  been  incorporated  into  the  particular 
legal  systems  of,  I  suppose,  every  modem  nation  of  Chris- 
tendom. 

How  marvellous  a  development  is  here !  We  cannot 
now  inquire  into  details ;  but  it  will  be  well,  for  the  full 
understanding  of  our  argument,  to  point  out  summarily 
one  or  two  particulars  in  the  general  process.  You  must 
mark,  then,  in  public  law,  the  extension,  step  by  step, 
through  many  a  social  disturbance,  many  a  civil  commo- 
tion, of  the  full  rights  of  citizenship  from  the  narrow  cir- 
cle of  a  few  score  of  favoured  families  to  the  entire  sphere 
of  the  free  subjects  of  the  empire — a  secular  revolution 
of  eight  hundred  years ; — in  private  law,  the  equal  com- 
munication among  various  classes  of  the  rights  of  prop- 
erty and  dominion  over  the  national  soil ;  the  abolition 
of  territorial  privileges;  the  readjustment,  by  gradual  and 
peaceful  manipulation,  of  the  cadastral  map  of  the  em- 
pire ;  the  relaxation,  by  slow  and  experimental  process, 
of  the  patriarchal  authority  of  the  head  of  the  family ;  of 


MODIFICATION    OF   THE   CIVIL    LAW.  93 

the  father  over  the  son,  whom  at  first  he  might  punish, 
sell,  or  slay ;  of  the  husband  over  the  wife,  whom  at  first 
lie  received  from  her  parents  as  the  spoil  of  his  own  spear, 
and  ruled  as  the  chattel  he  had  plundered  ;  of  the  mas- 
ter over  the  slave,  absolute  at  first,  final  and  irresponsible 
to  law,  custom,  or  conscience ;  the  gradual  replacement 
of  the  strictly  national  or  tribal  ideas  on  these  and  kin- 
dred subjects  by  views  of  right,  justice,  and  virtue,  com- 
mon to  mankind  in  general ;  the  slow  but  constant  growth 
of  principles  of  natural  and  universal  law,  and  their  ap- 
phcation,  searchingly  and  thoroughly,  to  every  subject  of 
jurisprudence,  and  to  all  the  dealings  of  man  with  man. 

Now  for  this  gradual  revolution  and  transformation 
of  views  and  principles,  and  social  institutions,  various 
causes  have  been  assigned. 

First — an  opinion  has  found  favour  in  many  quarters, 
and  has  been  put  forward  with  some  notes  of  triumph  by 
our  Christian  apologists,  that  the  rude  selfishness  of  the 
Itoman  law  was  humanized  by  the  influence  of  Christian- 
ity only,  at  first  unconsciously,  when  Christian  sentiments 
were  silently  making  an  impression  upon  a  world  which 
refused  to  recognise  them — afterwards  oj)enly  and  noto- 
riously, when  Christianity  became  enthroned  on  the  seat 
of  Caesar  in  the  person  of  Constantino,  Theodosins,  and 
Justinian.  But  w'hile  we  allow  its  due  effect  both  to  the 
avowed  and  the  tacit  influence  of  the  Gospel  in  this  mat- 
ter, while  we  trace  with  interest  and  delight  the  soften- 
ing and  refining  pressure  of  God's  law  upon  Inmian  and 
even  heathen  society,  we  must  acknowledge  that  tlie  first 


94  LEOTUEE   IV. 

impression  of  His  providential  hand  was  given  at  a  much 
earher  period ;  that  the  law  of  Rome  was  already  a  ped- 
agogue, leading  the  nations  unto  Christ  even  before 
Christ  Himself  had  appeared  in  the  world,  and  held  up 
to  its  admiration  the  principles  of  His  Catholic  jurispru- 
dence. 

Some,  again,  ascribe  this  revolution  to  tlie  influence 
of  philosophy,  to  the  teaching  of  the  Platonists  and 
Stoics,  to  the  ideas  of  humanity  and  sympathy  dissemi- 
nated by  the  mild  persuasion  of  the  schools,  when  the 
rude  Roman  warrior  sate  meekly  at  the  feet  of  tlie  Gre- 
cian sages.  We  acknowledge  the  fact,  and  we  admit  its 
influence  in  its  season :  but  the  relaxation  we  speak  of 
was  anterior  to  this. 

Once  more,  it  has  been  attributed  to  the  natural  en- 
lightenment of  the  conscience  among  the  Romans  them- 
selves, to  increased  cultivation  and  the  growth  of  moral 
sentiments,  to  the  example  of  the  wisest  and  most  liberal- 
minded  of  their  own  chiefs,  to  the  sense  of  security  giving 
more  room  to  the  play  of  generous  and  humane  feelings. 
But  neither  here  do  I  find  a  full  and  satisfactory  expla- 
nation of  the  phenomenon  before  us. 

The  account  I  would  give  of  the  matter  connects  it 
even  more  directly  with  what  we  may  venture  to  regard 
as  God's  providential  guidance  of  human  afiairs.  It  was 
the  immediate  and  inevitable  eftect  of  the  establishment 
of  that  kingdom  of  iron,  of  which  God  in  His  prophetic 
Scriptures  spoke.  It  w^as  the  very  condition  of  victory 
and  conquest,  which  bore  within  themselves  the  germ  of 


THE   LAW    OF   NATIONS.  95 

tliis  moral  transformation.    Tlie  little  fortress  in  tlie  bills. 


in  an  obscure  corner  of  Europe,  was  predestined  to  grow 
into  tbe  widest  and  migbtiest  of  empires,  and  level 
by  its  force  and  pressure  a  clear  and  ample  space  for  tbe 
edifice  of  tbe  Cbristian  Cburch.  Tbe  Providence  wbicb 
directed  tbe  assimilation  and  fusion  of  conquered  clans 
and  tribes  and  nations  successively  witb  tlieir  conquerors, 
decreed  tbe  inevitable  result — tbe  combination  and  fusion 
in  one  general  code  of  tbeir  several  ideas  of  law  and  poli- 
ty. Even  from  tbe  first,  as  far  as  we  can  trace  it,  tbere 
existed  tbis  irrepressible  conflict  between  tbe  formal 
principles  of  municipal  and  national  law — tbe  civil  law 
of  tbe  Romans, — and  tbe  principles  of  law,  manifold  and 
diverse,  in  force  among  tbeir  subjects  and  tbeir  clients. 
It  was  tbe  same  conflict  wbicb  we  bave  witnessed  and 
moderated  ourselves  in  tbe  government  of  our  own  em- 
pire in  India.  Roman  law  was  adapted  only  for  tbe  reg- 
ulation of  Romans  dealing  witb  Romans.  It  was  often 
impossible  to  apply  it  to  tbe  dealings  of  tbe  Roman  witb 
tbe  stranger ;  it  was  never  practicable  to  impose  it  as  a 
rule  for  strangers  dealing  witb  strangers.  Hence  practi- 
cally tbree  laws  in  force  at  tbe  same  time  on  tbe  same 
spot, — tbe  pure  Roman,  tbe  mixed,  and  tbe  foreign :  bence 
confusion,  bence  delay  and  misunderstanding :  bence,  in 
due  course,  tbe  vague  and  desultory  attempts  of  tbe 
strong  man  and  tbe  prudent  man  to  select,  to  combine, 
to  create  a  law  common  to  all :  bence  tbe  introduction 
of  examples  and  precedents,  tbe  groping  darkly  for  wide 
and  general  views ;  at  last,  tbe  arrival  of  tbe  reformer 


96  LECTUEE   IV. 

and  the  codifier,  the  prsetor,  the  proconsul,  or  the  empe- 
ror. Hence,  hi  short,  the  gradual  conception  of  the  idea 
of  normal  equity,  of  a  natural  and  universal  law,  of  a  law 
of  nations  contrasted  with  a  national  law.  Italian  and 
Grecian,  Jew  and  Syrian,  Heathen  and  Christian,  phi- 
losopher and  preacher,  all  contribute  to  this  ultimate 
conclusion,  and  help  forward  the  establishment  of  tlie 
great  religious  principle  of  the  moral  equality  of  all  men 
in  the  sight  of  a  common  God  and  Father,  a  common 
Ruler  and  a  Judge  of  all.' 

You  may  imagine  how  fiercely  the  pride  of  the  Roman 
would  struggle  against  this  conviction  ;  how  it  would  jai- 
against  his  personal  sense  of  preeminence,  and  the  soli- 
tary grandeur  in  which  he  towered  above  his  fellows, — 
against  his  religious  sense  of  a  Divine  mission,  which 
still  abided  in  him,  and  constituted  his  last  moral  princi- 
ple. For  he,  too,  believed  that  his  laws  and  usages  were 
given  him  from  above,  that  the  favour  of  the  heavenly 
powers  was  secured  to  him  by  their  perpetual  observance ; 
and  every  blow  directed  against  them,  every  slur  cast  upon 
them,  startled  and  distressed  him  as  an  act  of  sacrilege. 
But  practical  necessity  not  to  be  put  by,  first  reconciled 
him  to  the  transformation  of  his  law.  Use  and  habit 
satisfied  and  convinced  him.  The  daily  progress  of  the 
new  ideas,  the  gradual  familiarization  with  new  princi- 
ples of  thought  and  conduct,  with  other  views  of  life,  of 
duty,  of  the  ends  and  objects  of  civil  society,  worked  upon 
his  awakened  conscience  with  the  charm  of  a  new  inspi- 
*  See  Note  P. 


LAW   A   PEDAGOGUE   EK-INGING    UKTO    CIIKIST.  07 

ration.  They  revealed  to  him  tlie  idea  of  ]iew  gods,  or 
of  a  new  dispensation  from  the  gods  ;  of  a  greater  rule 
and  order  of  affairs.  They  foreshadowed  the  announce- 
ment of  a  new  and  universal  creed.  At  the  time  of  St. 
Paul's  arrival,  men  of  earnest  thought  and  wide  reflec- 
tion at  Rome  were  already  half  prepared  to  accept  the 
preaching  of  a  new  revelation,  and  lo  !  a  new  revelation 
was  flashed  upon  them.  Law  had  been  as  a  pedagogue, 
bringing  them  to  the  Master,  Christ.  Philosophy  had 
been  such  a  pedagogue  also.  Standing  sullenly  on  the 
old  ways,  they  had  felt  the  ground  tremble  under  them 
— they  saw  the  world  drifting  away  from  them.  In  spite 
of  occasional  reactions,  of  violent  and  forced  revivals,  of 
grim  fanatic  ecstasies,  of  many  a  grasping  and  clutching 
at  the  shadows  of  a  waning  theology,  at  the  altars  and 
the  temples,  the  vows  and  the  sacrifices  of  antiquity,  they 
were  getting  day  by  day  more  inured  to  the  conviction 
that  old  things  were  indeed  passing  away ;  behold  !  all 
things  were  becoming  new. 

That  St.  Paul  was  indeed  well  aware  of  this  state  of 
feeling  at  Home,  may  easily  be  supposed.  Although 
the  words  of  the  text  were  addressed  to  the  Galatians, 
the  thought  which  underlies  them  would  naturally 
present  itself  to  his  mind  when  writing  to  the  Komans. 
If  at  Ephesus  or  Ancyra,  the  Jew,  the  Greek,  and  the 
Iloman  dwelt  and  worshipped  side  by  side,  and  appre- 
hended in  common  the  impending  abrogation  of  the 
older  law  by  the  authority  of  the  Gospel,  still  more 
did  the  Church  at  Rome  collect  men  of  all  these  nations 


98  LECTURE   IV. 

together,  raid  acknowledge,  under  the  Apostle's  teach- 
ing, that  '  the  law  of  the  spirit  of  life  in  Christ  Jesus 
had  made  them  free  from  the  law  of  sin  and  death.' 
But  it  would  seem  that  the  Apostle  of  the  Gentiles,  the 
Roman  citizen,  the  man  of  heathen  as  well  as  of  Jewish 
learning,  had  a  special  aptitude  for  thus  shaping  the  ar- 
gument of  liis  Epistle  to  the  Romans.  He  was,  I  am 
persuaded,  personally  well  versed  in  the  principles  of  the 
Roman  law  itself.  In  the  first  place,  it  was  natural  that 
he,  a  citizen  of  Rome,  though  of  provincial  extraction, 
by  the  admission  of  his  forefathers  to  the  franchise,  should 
take  care  to  inform  himself  of  the  laws  which  constituted 
the  charter  of  the  class  he  belonged  to.  Roman  citizen- 
ship was  a  birthright  of  which  he  was  proud,  as  he  seems 
himself  to  acknowledge,  and  which  he  cherished  as  the 
safeguard  of  his  person  and  his  property.  It  gave  him 
certain  privileges ;  it  assured  him  of  protection  and  of 
freedom.  He  tells  us  as  much  himself.  He  appeals  more 
than  once  to  his  rights  as  a  citizen,  and  shows  that  he  is 
well  aware  of  the  advantages  they  confer  upon  him.  But 
more  than  this,  there  is  in  some  parts  of  his  teaching  a 
direct  application  of  Roman  legal  principles  in  illustra- 
tion of  his  doctrine,  which  none  but  a  Roman  could  be 
expected  so  to  apply,  none  unless  versed  in  Roman  law 
would  be  able  to  employ. 

Thus  St.  Paul  dwells  with  emphasis  on  the  position 
of  the  divine  Son  towards  the  Fathei",  in  terms  which 
savour  of  a  full  appreciation  of  the  power  given  to  the 
parent  over  the  child  by  the  civil  laws  of  Rome.     His 


ST.    PAUL   VERSED   IN   KOMAN   LAW.  99 

view  of  the  subjection  of  the  wife  to  the  husband  as  her 
'  head,'  whicli  he  uses  as  an  apt  illustration  of  the  posi- 
tion of  the  Church  to  Christ  her  Lord,  is  conceived  in  the 
spirit  of  a  Roman  rather  than  of  a  Hebrew.  Even  in 
his  account  of  the  mutual  duties  of  the  married  pair, 
compared  with  that  furnished  us  by  St.  Peter,  we  may 
trace,  I  think,  a  shade  of  difference :  the  one  breathes 
the  austere  reserve  of  a  Scipio  or  a  Cato ;  the  other  the 
tenderer  gravity  of  Abraham,  of  David,  or  of  Boaz.  The 
illustration,  again,  of  a  marked  doctrine  of  our  religion 
by  the  forms  of  Testation,  is  such  as  might  actually  sug-  \ 
gest  itself  to  a  Roman  jurist,  but  would  not  so  readily  ) 
occur  to  a  mere  Syrian  or  Jew ;  for  the  notion  of  Testa- 
tion, the  technical  and  formal  making  of  a  will,  with  the 
covenant  therein  implied  with  the  nation,  and  with  all 
the  rights  and  powers  thereto  annexed,  was,  in  fact,  al- 
most a  creation  of  Roman  jurisprudence.  And  once  V 
more  I  would  remark  the  interesting  analogy  St.  Paul  § 
suo-o-ests  in  describing  our  relation  as  believers  to  our 

GO  O  ft 

heavenly  Father,  as  that  of  sons  by  adoption.  The  pro-  y 
cess  of  legal  adoption,  by  which  the  chosen  heir  became  n 
entitled,  through  the  performance  of  certain  stated  cere-  >i 
monies,  the  execution  of  certain  formalities,  not  only  to  ^ 
the  reversion  of  the  property,  but  to  the  civil  status,  to 
the  burdens  as  well  as  the  rights  of  the  adopter, — be- 
came, as  it  were,  his  other  self,  one  with  him,  identified 
with  him ; — this,  too,  is  a  Roman  principle,  peculiar  at 
this  time  to  the  Romans,  unknowm,  I  believe,  to  the 
Greeks,  unknown  to  all  appearance  to  the  Jews,  as  it 


1^ 


4 


]00  LECTTTEE   IV. 

certainly  is  not  found  in  the  legislation  of  Moses,  nor 
mentioned  anywhere  as  a  usage  among  the  children  of 
the  elder  covenant.  We  have  ourselves  but  a  feint  con- 
ception of  the  force  with  which  such  an  illustration 
would  speak  to  one  familiar  with  the  Roman  practice  ; 
how  it  would  serve  to  impress  upon  him  the  assurance 
that  the  adopted  son  of  God  becomes  in  a  peculiar  and 
intimate  sense  one  with  the  heavenly  Father,  one  in  es- 
sence and  in  spirit,  though  not  in  flesh  and  blood.' 

This  subject  would  bear  some  further  amplification  ; 
but  our  limits  to-day  will  not  allow  me  to  dwell  longer 
upon  it,  and  the  next  lecture  must  be  devoted  to  another 
branch  of  the  general  argument.  I  will  only  ask  you 
now  to  remark,  in  conclusion,  how  instruction  conveyed 
thus  in  language  suited  to  the  comprehension  of  Roman 
citizens,  of  a  class,  at  least,  familiar  with  the  privileges 
of  citizenship, — whether  Jews,  Greeks,  or  Romans, — 
whether  at  Rome  or  in  the  provinces, — was  plainly  ad- 
dressed to  the  cultivated  and  intelligent  among  men. 
St.  Paul,  a  man  himself  of  no  mean  social  rank,  and  of 
high  intellectual  culture,  spoke,  I  cannot  doubt,  directly 
to  the  intellect  as  well  as  to  the  heart  of  men  of  refine- 
ment like  his  own.  His  converts  were  among  the  wise 
and  prudent,  as  well  as  among  the  impulsive  and  de- 
vout. I  reject  then  the  notion,  too  hastily  assumed,  too 
readily  accepted,  from  a  mistaken  apprehension  of  the 
real  dignity  of  the  Gospel,  that  the  first  preaching  of  the 
faith  was  addressed  to  the  lowest  and  meanest  and  least 
'  See  Note  Q. 


CHAIIACTEE   OF   CHRISTIAN    SOCIETY   AT   ROME.        101 

intelligent,  the  outcasts  and  proletaries  of  society.  Many- 
reasons,  I  am  convinced,  might  be  alleged  for  concluding 
that  it  was  much  the  reverse.  As  regards  the  Christian 
Church  at  Rome,  at  least — the  direct  statements  of  the 
Apostle  himself — the  evidence  of  existing  monuments  of 
antiquity — inferences  of  no  little  strength  from  the  rec- 
ords of  secular  history — and  inferences  not  lightly  to  be 
rejected  from  the  language  and  sentiments  of  contempo- 
rary heathens — all  tend  to  assure  us  that  it  embraced 
some  devoted  members,  and  attracted  many  anxious  in- 
quirers amidst  the  palaces  of  the  nobles,  and  even  in 
Caesar's  household.  If  such  be  the  case — if  high-born 
men  and  women — if  well-trained  reasoners  and  thinkers 
— if  patricians,  and  patrons,  and  counsellors-in-law,  with 
their  freedmen,  their  pupils,  and  their  clients,  did  read 
and  appreciate  the  Apostle's  letters — did  visit  him  in  his 
bonds,  and  listen  to  his  teachings — did  accept  Gospel- 
truth-  from  his  lij)s,  and  ask  for  baptism  at  his  hands  ;  we 
may  fairly  assume,  I  say  among  other  motive  influences, 
that  the  law,  the  civil  law  of  Rome,  protesting  as  it  did 
against  the  narrow  jurisprudence  of  primiti^^e  antiquity, 
and  the  political  religion  on  which  that  jurisprudence 
was  founded — the  civil  law,  refined  and  modified  as  it 
was  into  the  expression  of  universal  reason  on  the  great 
principles  of  equity  and  legal  use — the  civil  law,  in  short, 
the  image  in  the  Roman's  view  of  the  mind  of  God  Him- 
self— had  been  truly  a  pedagogue  bringing  men  by  gen- 
tle force  and  pressure  to  Christ  the  Master  of  Truth,  and 
the  Judge  of  Righteousness.' 

'  Sec  Xoto  n 


LECTUEE   V. 

THE  HEATHEN  AWAKENED  TO  A  SENSE  OF  HIS  SPIRITUAL 
DANGER. 

1  John  IV.  21. 

And  this  commandment  have  ice  from  Him^  That  he  icho  loveth 
God  love  Ms  "brother  also. 

We  are  examining  the  process  whereby  the  selfish 
national  prejudices  on  which  the  heathen  religions  were 
founded,  were  gradually  sapped,  and  the  soil  prepared 
for  the  seed  of  Christianity — the  process  whereby  the  en- 
grossing idea  of  the  city  upon  earth  was  exchanged  for 
the  anticipation  of  a  City  of  God  in  heaven.  "We  have 
observed  how  the  progress  of  philosophy,  of  inquiry,  that 
is,  into  the  moral  condition  of  man,  led  the  Greeks  and 
Eomans,  in  the  ripeness  of  their  national  life,  to  broader 
views  of  the  unity  of  man,  the  natural  equality  of  races, 
the  common  bonds  of  sympathy  by  which  they  are  mu- 
tually connected.  We  have  further  traced  the  process  by 
which,  under  the  pressure  of  political  necessities,  the  Ro- 
mans were  compelled  to  relax  the  exclusive  spirit  of  their 
jurisprudence,  and  practically  to  make  their  city — what 
they  learned  at  last  with  pride  to  denominate  it — the 
common  city  and  mother  of  nations. 


LOVE   ARISING   FKOM   THE    CONSCIOUSNESS    OF    SIN.       103 

Two  great  steps,  tlieii,  have  been  taken  towards  the 
recognition  of  CJiristian  principle  :  tlie  one  is  the  theoret- 
ical acknowledgment  of  hnnian  equality  in  the  siglit  of 
God — the  other  is  the  practical  admission  of  men  to 
equal  rights  and  common  franchises  in  relation  one  to 
anotlier. 

So  far  have  men  been  brought  on  their  appointed 
march  towards  the  stand-point  of  Christian  revelation, 
which  requires  as  the  first  condition  of  its  acceptance — 
as  the  condition  of  all  spiritual  intuition,  and  of  the 
knowledge  and  love  of  God — the  fullest  sympathy  be- 
tween man  and  man,  perfect  harmony  and  concord,  or, 
in  the  language  of  the  Apostle,  '  Love.'  '  Love  thy 
neighbour  as  thyself,'  Avas  the  golden  precept  of  Jesus 
Christ.  '  Bear  ye  one  another's  burdens,  and  so  fulfil 
the  law  of  Christ,' '  was  the  commentary  of  St.  Paul,  of 
the  practical  teacher  who  contemplated  religion  in  its 
actual  exercise,  and  the  works  by  which  faith  is  known 
among  men.  '  Above  all  things  have  fervent  charity 
among  yourselves,  lor  charity  ' — that  is,  love — '  shall 
cover  the  multitude  of  sins,' '  was  the  connnentary  of  St. 
Peter,  the  brave  and  impetuous  soldier  of  the  Lord.  '  Li 
this  the  children  of  God  are  manifest,  and  the  children 
of  the  devil :  whosoever  doeth  not  righteousness  is  not 
of  God,  neither  he  that  lovetli  not  his  brother,'  ^ — is  the 
commentary  of  St.  John,  the  self-inquiring,  self-devoting 
friend  of  Jesus,  looking  beyond  the  outward  token  of  works 
to  the  inward  feeling   of  the   heart.     And   again   and 

'  Gal.  ^i.  -2.  2  1  Peter  iv.  8.  '  1  John  iii.  10. 


104  LECTUKE   V. 

again,  witli  redoubled  fervour  :  '  Beloved,  let  us  love  one 
another  :  for  love  is  of  God ;  and  every  one  that  loveth 
is  born  of  God,  and  knoweth  God.'  'God  is  love;  and 
he  that  dwelleth  in  love  dwelleth  in  God,  and  God  in 
him.'  ^ 

NoM^,  bearing  in  mind  these  texts,  and  considering 
the  principle  of  self-control  and  self-denial  for  God  and 
conscience'  sake  which  they  involve — the  principle  of 
human  sympathy  springing  from  the  love  of  the  heaven- 
ly and  divine, — we  may  see  at  once  how  far  as  yet  the 
heathens  were  from  the  position  of  Christ's  true  disciples. 
Certain  common  rights  of  man  as  man  have  been  hither- 
to acknowledged  theoretically  by  the  philosophers,  and 
admitted  as  matter  of  political  expediency  by  legislators 
and  statesmen.  Another  and  more  important  step  re- 
mains to  be  taken.  The  heart  must  be  awakened,  the 
conscience  roused  to  a  sense  of  duty,  and  the  feelings  to 
a  sense  of  thankfulness  for  mercies  received.  Love  must 
be  given  for  love,  sympathy  to  man  in  return  for  the 
sympathy  of  God.  Man  must  come  to  feel  that  he  lives 
under  a  law  of  charity,  under  a  commandment  from 
above  written  on  the  fleshly  tables  of  his  heart — that  he 
who  loveth  God  must  love  his  brother  also. 

But  we  can  hardly  feel  the  obligation  to  bear  one 
another's  burdens,  which  is  the  law  of  love,  until  we 
have  acquired  the  sense  of  a  personal  burden  of  om*  own, 
of  a  personal  debt  and  duty  to  One  who  alone  is  able  to 
bear  our  burdens  and  share  our  infirmities.     "We  cannot 

•  1  John  iv.  1,  16. 


THE   CHEISTIAN   %aEW    OF   THE   WOELD   GLOOMY.        105 

exercise  fervent,  hearty,  and  zealous  cliaritj  towards 
others,  till  we  have  felt  the  reality  of  sin,  and  the  need 
of  Divine  charity  to  excuse  and  to  cover  it  in  ourselves. 
Therefore  it  is  that  the  sense  of  duty  to  God  comes  first, 
and  brings  after  it  a  sense  of  duty  to  our  neighbour. 
And  such  again  is  the  declaration  made  to  us  throughout 
the  epistle  of  St.  John,  vs^ho  begins  with  the  recognition 
of  God  the  Father  and  the  Divine  Son  Jesus  Christ  the 
righteous,  and  the  sense  of  sin,  and  of  duty  towards 
Him  ;  and  thence  leads  us  on  to  recognise  the  duty  of 
brotherly  love :  '  He  that  saith  he  is  in  the  light,  and 
hateth  his  brother,  is  in  darkness  even  until  now.' 
'  Tliis  commandment  have  we  from  Him,  That  he  wlio 
loveth  God  love  his  brother  also.' 

The  consciousness,  then,  of  our  own  sin  is  the  first 
step  to  the  fulfilment  of  the  law  of  love.  This  is  the 
Christian's  view.  Let  us  now  examine  what  progress 
the  heathen  had  made  in  this  direction,  and  how  far  it 
had  led  him  to  the  fulfilment  of  this  commandment. 

The  general  impression  w^e  receive  from  the  records 
of  the  l^ew  Testament  is  assuredly  that  they  were 
written  under  a  prevailing  sense  of  human  misery. 
Tlie  world  seems  to  assume  to  the  writers  the  aspect  of 
a  wreck  and  a  bafiled  purpose.  Deep  shades  fiit  over 
the  face  of  human  society,  from  the  uneasy  possessor  of 
wealth  and  power  to  the  humblest  occupant  of  the 
cottage.  Sickness  and  infirmity  of  every  kind  are 
brought  painfully  prominent ;  the  brighter  scenes  of  life 
— with  one  or  two  notable  exceptions — are  kept  studious- 


J.O0  LECTUKE  V. 

ly  in  the  background.  Over  bodily  pain  and  mental 
suffering  of  all  kinds  broods  a  vague  and  terrible  appre- 
liension  of  tbe  wratli  of  God,  and  the  inheritance  of  an 
indefinable  curse.  The  general  impression,  I  say,  of  life 
there  depicted  is  one  of  pain,  sorrovr,  disappointment, 
defeat — of  the  vanity  of  human  cares,  the  nothingness 
of  human  objects,  the  awfulness  of  the  inexplicable  Pres- 
ent, the  fearfulness  of  the  unimaginable  Future.  We  are 
ever  reminded  of  the  yearnings  of  the  Psalmist,  and  are 
compelled  to  feel  with  him  that  it  were  better,  far  better 
— even  for  the  best  and  happiest  among  us — to  flee  away 
and  be  at  rest.  Smitten  wdth  the  gloom  of  these  mourn- 
ful records  of  our  existence,  we  throw  ourselves  fervently 
into  the  feeling  which  dictated  the  solemn  language  of 
our  Burial  Service,  when  we  heartily  thank  our  heavenly 
Father  that  He  has  delivered  our  departed  brother  from 
the  miseries  of  this  sinful  world.  Of  this  pain  and  sor- 
row the  faithful  discij^les  are  represented  as  themselves 
experiencing  the  greatest  share ;  as  far  as  this  world  is 
concerned  they  are  declared  to  be  of  all  men  the  most 
miserable.  There  are,  indeed,  outward  circumstances  of 
alarm  or  privation,  of  mocking  and  persecution  even  un- 
to death,  which  may  seem  at  first  sufiicient  to  account 
for  this  ;  but  tliis  is  not  all ;  this  is  not  the  real  founda- 
tion of  the  gloomy  prospect  of  the  world  as  depicted  in 
the  Gospel,  but  sin,  and  the  knowledge  and  consciousness 
of  sin.  If  sin  has  brought  death  into  the  M'orld,  and 
the  curse  of  sin  has  made  the  world  miserable,  it  is  the 
consciousness  of  this  sin  that  has  made  men  sensible  of 


THE   CHKISTIAN   VIEW   OF   THE   WOKLD   GLOOMY.      107 

their  misery,  and  most  anxious  for  the  means  of  escape 
from  it,  and  from  its  curse.  jSlo  man  is  so  sensible  of 
this  as  the  Christian ;  no  man  feels  so  much  the  horror 
and  the  misery ;  but  to  him  this  knowledge  brings  with 
it  the  hope  and  anticipation  of  escape.  The  pain  more 
keenly  felt  by  him — the  pain  which  colours  and  darkens 
every  page  of  his  sacred  records — which  issues  in  sad 
cries  of  agony  from  his  inspired  preachers  at  every  crisis 
of  their  sorrowing  pilgrimage — that  pain  is  first  sancti- 
fied, then  softened,  at  last  transformed  into  joy  and 
peace  in  believing,  by  the  assurance  of  a  Redeemer  who 
has  overcome  sin  and  death,  and  taken  away  the  punish- 
ment and  the  curse.  For  such  a  transformation,  for  such 
a  recompense  of  sufiering  the  heathen  could  not  look. 
Tliere  was  nothing  in  the  face  of  things  around  him  to 
indicate  it ;  there  was  nothing  in  the  records  or  legends 
of  the  past,  nothing  in  the  hopes  and  pretended  prophe- 
cies of  the  future  to  lead  him  to  such  an  aspiration.  The 
fixed  persuasion  of  the  heathen  was  that  the  world  was 
bad — that  it  had  once  been  better,  but  could  only  become 
worse.  Hints  might  be  obscurely  given,  or  fondly  im- 
agined, of  a  coming  Kuler,  a  divine  Conqueror,  a  myste- 
rious Eevealer  of  God's  will  and  nature ;  but  of  a  Sanc- 
tifier  and  Redeemer,  of  a  Conqueror  of  sin,  an  Assuager 
of  pain,  of  an  Averter  of  the  evil  which  is  born  within 
us  or  gathers  roimd  us,  and  clings  to  us  always  from  the 
cradle  to  the  grave,  and  poisons  life,  and  blasts  pleasure, 
and  mortifies  pride,  and  corrupts  love,  and  makes  every 
thing  desired  and  hoped  for  turn  out  other  than  what  we 


108  LECTURE   V. 

had  desired  and  hoped — of  an  Averter  of  this  eternal 
immedicable  evil  the  heathen  had  no  conception,  no  an- 
ticipation at  all.' 

I  have  spoken  of  the  sadness  which  pervades  the  at- 
mosphere, so  to  say,  of  the  l^ew  Testament ;  deeper  sad- 
ness, deeper  because  unrelieved  by  the  revelation  of  a  great- 
,er  gladness,  pervades  not  less  completely  the  atmosphere 
of  secular  history  under  the  sway  of  declining  heathen- 
ism ;  deeper  because  of  the  contrast  of  the  inner  sj)irit  of 
heathen  society,  and  the  gaudy  colours  in  which  society  in- 
vested itself,  with  the  blaring  noise  of  the  trumpets  and 
the  cymbals  with  which  it  sought  to  drown  its  accusing 
conscience.  St.  Paul  is  sad  ;  St.  John  is  pensive ;  but  the 
Christian  St.  Paul  is  not  so  sad  as  the  philosopher  Sen- 
eca; the  Christian  St.  John  is  not  so  j^ensive  as  the  philos- 
opher Aurelius.  For  this  sadness  there  w^as  no  relief  in 
the  creed  of  the  old  mythology,  there  was  no  relief  in 
the  creed  of  the  political  religion.  ]^or  was  there  any  re- 
lief in  the  aspect  of  the  times,  notwithstanding  the  show  of 
splendour  which  adorned  it,  and  the  grandeur  of  the  posi- 
tion to  which  mankind  might  seem  to  have  attained. 

The  popular  voice,  indeed,  the  voice  of  poets  and 
orators  and  declaimers,  the  voice  even  of  philosophers 
themselves,  is  one  long  and  varied  chant  of  triumph — 
of  triumph  over  man's  submission  to  a  great  conquering 
empire,  of  triumph  over  nature's  subjection  to  a  great 
civilizing  society,  of  triumph  over  barbarism,  over  the 
elements,  over  mind,  and  over  matter.  Ccesar  and  Jove 
'  See  Note  S. 


THE    HEATHEN    VIEW    STILL   MORE    GLOOMY.  109 

hold  coequal  and  divided  sovereignty.  The  world  has 
become  the  Roman  Empire,  and  the  lioman  Empire  has 
])ecome  a  palace  of  Art,  a  palace  reared  and  decorated 
for  the  habitation  of  the  human  soul.  Few  and  slender 
indeed  were  the  conquests  of  the  Roman  over  material 
things,  compared  with  the  conquests  on  which  our  later 
age  now  plumes  itself,  which  swell  it  with  pride,  exces- 
sive perhaps  and  vain-glorious.  But  his  triumphs  in  the 
realm  of  Art  may  fairly  be  set  against  our  victories  in 
Science ;  he  had  quite  as  much  reason  to  boast  of  his  in- 
tellectual achievements  as  we  of  ours  ;  and  great  indeed 
was  the  satisfaction  with  which  he  looked  around  on  the 
creations  of  his  power,  his  skill,  and  his  imagination, 
and  pronounced  them  very  good.  But  in  the  midst  of 
all  this  outward  glory  he  was  stricken  at  heart ;  alarmed 
and  terrified  at  he  knew  not  what ;  distressed  and  dis- 
consolate, he  knew  not  why  ;  '  noises  as  of  waters  falling 
down  sounded  about  him,' — '  sad  visions  appeared  unto 
him  of  heavy  countenances.'  ^  '  They  that  promised  to 
drive  away  terrors  and  troubles  from  a  sick  soul,  were 
sick  themselves  of  fear,  worthy  to  be  laughed  at,'  '  For 
wickedness,  condemned  of  her  own  witness,  is  very  tim- 
orous, and  being  pressed  with  conscience  always  fore- 
casteth  grievous  things.'  '  And  whosoever  there  fell 
down  was  straitly  kept,  shut  up  in  a  prison  without  iron 
bars.'  And  this  because,  according  to  the  stern  reproof 
of  the  Apostle,  '  when  they  knew  God,  they  glorified 
Him  not  as  God,  neither  were  thankful ;  but  became 

*  Wisdom  xvii. 


110  LECTURE   V. 

vain  ill  tlieir  imaginations,  and  tlieir  foolisli  heart  was 
darkened.  Professing  themselves  wise,  they  became 
fools  .  .  .  changing  the  truth  of  God  into  a  lie,  and  wor- 
shipping the  creature  more  than  the  Creator.' '  For 
such  is  the  reward  and  the  end  of  Pantheism,  whether 
in  the  first  century  or  in  the  nineteenth. 

In  some  of  the  most  thoughtful  spirits  of  those  days, 
this  gloomy  sense  of  dissatisfaction  vented  itself  in 
murmurs  and  rebellions  against  the  public  conduct  of 
affairs,  against  the  Government,  against  the  Ceesars. 
The  contrast,  half  stifled,  lialf  avowed,  between  the 
philosophers  and  the  empire,  is  a  marked  feature  in  the 
history  of  the  times.  But  this  was  but  a  symptom  of 
the  malady,  not  the  malady  itself.  The  malady  lay 
deep  in  the  spiritual  nature  of  man,  deep  in  the  founda- 
tions of  sentiment  and  conscience,  in  feelings  which  are 
opened  and  explained  to  us  by  religion,  which  are  tend- 
ed, comforted,  and  transmuted  by  faith  in  a  revealed 
Saviour  only. 

It  was  from  this  sense,  however,  of  depression  and 
discontent  with  the  frame  of  the  outward  world,  that 
arose  the  remarkable  change  which  now  appears  in  the 
expression  of  heathen  philosophy,  that  is,  of  all  that 
could  now  be  called  in  any^spiritual  sense,  heathen  re- 
ligion. We  open  now  on  an  era  of  preaching  instead 
of  discussion,  of  moral  discourses,  of  spiritual  improve- 
ment drawn  from  events  and  circumstances,  of  the  anal- 
ysis of  virtues  and  vices,  of  exhortations  to  the  one,  warn- 

'  Rom.  i.  21.  22, 


EPICTETU8.  Ill 

iugs  against  the  other.  The  philosopher  is  no  longer  a 
logician  with  an  essay,  nor  a  sophist  with  a  declamation : 
he  is  a  master,  a  preacher,  a  confessor  or  director  of 
souls :  he  is  not  a  speculator,  inquiring  after  truth,  but  a 
priest,  a  minister,  a  hierophant  of  the  divine  Source  of 
truth,  guiding  and  controlling,  as  with  authority,  the 
conscience  of  his  disciples.  lie  is  a  witness  of  God, 
bearing  testimony  to  a  divine  law,  and  charged  as  it 
were  with  the  cure  of  souls  intrusted  to  his  teaching. 
We  meet  no  more  among  the  masters  of  human  wisdom 
with  subtle  enquiries  into  the  operations  of  the  intellect; 
but  addresses  straight  to  the  heart  and  spirit ;  advice 
tender  or  severe,  remonstrances  indignant  or  affection- 
ate ;  exhortations  to  fervent  prayer  and  self-enquiry ; 
enticements  to  love  and  charity ;  earnest  declarations,  as 
from  a  higher  source  of  knowledge,  of  the  unity  of  man 
with  man,  and  the  common  ties  of  sympathy  which  bind 
all  the  families  of  the  earth  together.  Such  are  the  top- 
ics liandled  in  the  pulpits  of  Seneca  and  Epictetus,  of 
Dion  and  Juvenal,  of  Plutarch  and  Aurelius.' 

'My  friend,' saj^s  Epictetus,  ' you  w^ould  become  a 
philosopher:  then  train  yourself  first  at  home  and  in 
silence ;  examine  long  your  temper  and  weigh  your  pow- 
ers. Study  long  for  yourself  before  you  preach  to  oth- 
ers. Plants  ripen  only  by  degrees,  and  you  too  are  a 
divine  plant.  If  you  blossom  before  the  time,  the  win- 
ter will  nip  you;  you  will  fancy  yourself  some  fine 
one,  but  you  are  dead  already,  dead  even  to  the  roots. 
'  See  Note  T. 


112  LECTUEE   V. 

.  ,  .  .  Suffer  yourself  to  ripen  slowly,  as  nature 
prompts.  Give  the  root  time  to  take  the  soil,  and  the 
buds  time  to  blossom ;  then  nature  herself  will  bear  her 
own  fruits.' 

And  again : — '  Strive  to  heal  yourself,  to  change  your 
nature;  put  not  off  the  w^ork  till  to-morrow.  If  you 
say,  To-morrow  I  will  take  heed  to  myself,  it  is  just  as 
though  you  said.  To-day  I  will  be  mean,  shameless,  cow- 
ardly, passionate,  malicious.  See  what  evil  you  allow 
yourself  by  this  fatal  indulgence.  But  if  it  be  good  for 
you  to  be  converted,  and  to  watch  with  heart  and  soul 
over  every  action  and  desire,  how  much  more  is  it  good 
to  do  so  this  very  moment !  If  it  is  expedient  to-mor- 
row, how  much  rather  is  it  to  day  !  For  beginning  to- 
day, you  will  have  more  strength  for  it  to-morrow,  and 
you  will  not  be  tempted  to  leave  the  work  to  the  day 
after.' 

Or  hearken  to  Seneca  : — '  To  acquire  wisdom  do  we 
not  plainly  want  an  advocate  and  adviser,  who  shall  en- 
join us  contrary  to  the  behests  of  common  opinion  ?  No 
voice  reaches  our  ears  without  some  evil  effect.  .  .  . 
The  good  wishes  of  our  friends,  the  curses  of  our  en- 
emies, are  equally  harmful  to  us.  .  .  We  cannot  go 
straight  forward ;  our  parents  draw  us  aside ;  our  ser- 
vants draw  us  aside ;  no  man  errs  to  his  own  hurt  only, 
but  scatters  his  own  folly  round  him,  and  imbibes  of  the 
folly  of  others.  Making  others  worse,  he  becomes  worse 
himself.  He  has  learned  worse  things,  and  straightway 
he  teaches  worse  things ;  and  thus  is  created  the  vast 


SENECA   AND   AUKELIUS.  113 

mass  of  our  wickedness,  by  the  accumulation  of  all  the 
little  wickednesses  of  us  all.  Oh !  may  there  he  some 
guardian  ever  about  us,  to  dispel  false  conceits,  and  re- 
call our  attention  from  popular  delusions !  For  thou  err- 
est — thou  errest,' — here  mark  the  false  wisdom  of  the 
heathen, — '  thou  that  thinkest  that  our  vices  are  born  in 
us  ;  no,  they  have  come  upon  us,  they  have  been  thrust 
into  us.  We  were  born  sound  from  sin,  free  to  right- 
eousness. Then  let  us  restrain,  by  constant  exhortations, 
the  vain  imaginations  which  ever  surge  around  us.' 

Or  to  the  mild  Aurelius,  severe  to  himself  as  no  other 
heathen,  indulgent  as  no  other  heathen  to  others  :  'Be- 
ware, O  my  soul,  of  imperial  habits,  nor  contract  the 
stain  of  the  purple.  Keep  yourself  simple,  good,  sin- 
cere, grave,  a  lover  of  justice,  a  w^orshipper  of  God,  kind 
but  resolute  in  all  your  duties.  Strive  always  to  main- 
tain the  temper  which  philosophy  seeks  to  engender. 
Fear  God — protect  men :  life  is  short,  and  of  this  mortal 
life  the  only  fruit  is  sanctity  of  temper,  sympathy  in  deed. 
Approve  yourself  in  all  things  a  disciple ' — of  whom  ?  not, 
alas  !  of  Christ, — not  of  a  perfect  and  divine  exemplar, 
but — '  of  the  best  of  men  you  have  known,  of  Antonine 
the  Pious.' 

Such  is  the  general  tone  of  moral  teaching  under  the 
Empire,  varying  with  each  individual  teacher.  With 
Epictetus  it  is  familiar  and  subtle ;  more  pompous,  more 
vague,  with  Dion  Chrysostom  ;  more  vehement  and  pen- 
etrating, more  various  in  application,  with  Seneca ;  more 
elevated  again,  and  more  tender,  with  Aurelius.     But  in 


114  LECTURE   V. 

a]]  til  ere  is  the  same  general  tone  of  pressing  exhorta- 
tion, or  of  lively  remonstrance ;  very  cliiFerent  assuredly 
from  that  of  the  old  Grecian  sages,  of  Plato  and  Aristo- 
tle; more  practical,  more  moral,  more  spiritual :  address- 
ed to  the  heart  rather  than  to  the  head — to  the  con- 
science, not  to  the  intellect  of  the  disciple.  But  of  ex- 
hortation to  virtue  there  was  less,  inasmuch  as  a  true  ex- 
emplar of  virtue  was  wanting  :  there  was  more  of  remon- 
strance against  vice,  for  of  instances  of  vice  tliere  was  no 
lack  on  any  si<le.  This  was  the  great  defect  of  the 
heathen  teacihiug,  a  defect  for  which  there  was  no  reme- 
dy among  them.  They  felt  themselves  how  fruitless  it 
was  to  set  before  their  pupils  a  mere  theory  or  abstraction 
of  goodness,  where  there  was  no  effectual  standard  of 
goodness  to  be  shown.  And  so  a  man  of  great  note  in 
his  day  among  them  implicitly  confessed,  when  he 
charged  his  disciples  to  treat  themselves  as  confirmed 
invalids  in  godliness,  nor  so  much  as  seek  to  attain  the 
normal  state  of  spiritual  health  and  soundness.' 

But  what  is  it  that  ha*thus  taught  men  to  take  this 
practical  view  of  the  scope  and  functions  of  philosophy  ? 
It  is  their  growing  sense  of  the  miseries  of  the  world; 
of  the  trials  and  perturbations  to  which  men  are  subject- 
ed by  the  insnfficiency  of  human  aims,  the  weakness  of 
human  resolves  ;  by  the  opposition  of  human  nature  to 
the  eternal  rules  of  right ;  by  a  sense,  however  faint  and 
dubious,  of  sin  inherent  in  our  mortal  being,  a  sense  of 
sin  and  no  augury  of  redemption.  '  Great  is  the  conflict,' 
'  See  Note  U. 


EXHORTATION    AND   EEMONSTRANCE.  115 

cries  Seneca,  '  between  tlie  Flesh  and  the  Spirit.'  '  O 
this  accursed  Flesh  ! '  is  the  exclamation  of  Fersius. 

Accordingly  Seneca  rejects  with  vivacity  the  dialectic 
subtleties  of  the  schools.  Life,  he  feels,  is  too  grave  a 
thing  to  be  so  trifled  with.  '  Would  you  know,'  he  says, 
'  what  it  is  that  philosophy  promises  ?  I  answer,  practi- 
cal advice.  One  man  is  at  the  point  of  death,  another 
is  pinched  with  want ;  one  cannot  bear  his  adverse  for- 
tune, another  is  wearied  of  prosperity ;  one  is  afflicted 
by  men,  another  by  the  gods.  Why  do  you  thus  trifle 
with  them  ?  This  is  no  time  for  jesting,  no  place  for 
grimaces.  You  are  adjured  by  the  miserable !  You 
promised  that  you  would  bring  succour  to  the  ship- 
wrecked, to  the  captives,  to  the  sick,  to  the  starving,  to 
the  condemned  and  perishing !  Whither  away  then  ? 
What  are  you  doing  ?  The  man  you  thus  sport  with  is 
in  agony.  Help  him!  The  lost,  the  dying,  stretch 
their  hands  towards  you ;  they  implore  you,  they  cast 
upon  you  all  their  hopes  and  as2:)irations.  They  entreat 
you  to  draw  them  forth  from  such  abject  misery;  to 
show  them  their  errors,  and  enlighten  their  perplexities, 
by  the  bright  eftulgence  of  the  Truth.  Tell  them  then 
what  nature  declares  to  be  necessary  and  what  superflu- 
ous ;  how  easy  her  laws ;  how  pleasant  life,  and  how  free 
to  those  who  accept  them ;  how  bitter  and  perplexed  to 
those  who  follow  their  own  fancies  rather.' ' 

'  O  wretched  man  that  I  am,  who  shall  deliver  me 
from  the  body  of  this  death  ? ' "-     Such  is  the  cry  at  this 

'  See  Note  V.    .  =  Romans  vii.  24. 


116  LECTURE   V. 

same  moment  of  the  Apostle,  iu  bis  address  to  the  Ro- 
mans, to  tlie  believers  or  inquirers  collected  from  among 
the  devoutest  spirits  of  Rome,  Gentile  no  less  than  Jew  ; 
and  doubtless  he  well  knew  what  response  this  cry  would 
awaken  in  their  hearts.  For  to  many  a  lord  of  a  patri- 
cian palace  this  cry  of  agony  would  sound  as  the  echo 
from  his  own  walls,  the  echo  to  the  sighs  and  adjurations 
he  had  himself  uttered  in  solitude,  or  confided  to  the 
ears  of  his  own  private  adviser,  his  domestic  philosopher. 
For  it  was  from  no  vain  pride  that  the  Roman  magnate 
furnished  himself  with  a  friend  and  director  at  his  table, 
or  by  his  couch,  with  whom  to  converse  in  the  intervals 
of  business  on  the  concerns  of  his  soul,  and  from  whose 
tuition  to  imbibe  his  soundest  lessons  on  the  conduct  of 
life  and  preparation  for  death.  The  highway  of  history 
is  thronged  with  a  gorgeous  procession  of  figures,  milita- 
ry or  royal,  marching  on  with  the  solemn  tread  of  desti- 
ny to  the  accomplishment  of  great  secular  revolutions  ; 
but  her  byways  afford  us  many  a  glimpse  of  private  life 
and  personal  character  and  domestic  usage,  and  show  us 
men  like  ourselves  at  every  shifting  of  the  scene,  under 
various  institutions,  moving  about  on  their  affairs  just  as 
we  do  ourselves.  And  so,  in  the  byways  of  Roman  his- 
tory at  this  period,  we  see  how  the  men  who  had  rejected 
as  baseless  and  unsanctioned  the  law  of  Pagan  morality, 
became  a  law  to  themselves  in  this  crisis  of  spiritual 
need,  and  sought  to  work  out  that  law,  not  without  fear 
and  trembling.  We  see  the  statesman  who  has  been 
doomed  to  execution,  and  required  to.  submit  his  neck 


SPIRITUAL   AGONY    AMONG   THE   ROMANS.  117 

to  the  swordsman,  or  plunge  the  poniard  in  his  own  bo- 
som, summon  his  friends,  arrange  the  benches,  invoke 
the  aid  of  his  spiritual  adviser,  and  invite  the  party  to  a 
final  discussion  on  the  aim  and  purpose  of  human  life, 
the  real  nature  of  dissolution.  We  see  him  rise  from 
the  debate  with  an  affecting  farewell,  as  one  who  is 
about  to  find  in  person  a  reply  to  the  unsolved  riddle  of 
existence.  Or,  again,  we  see  the  sick  and  weary  vete- 
ran, who  has  been  long  the  victim  of  bodily  infirmity, 
and  suffered  many  things  of  divers  physicians,  consult 
the  director  of  his  conscience ;  shall  he  end  at  once  all 
his  pains  by  the  momentary  pang  of  a  voluntary  death  ? 
— his  friends  interceding  with  the  sage  for  a  decision 
which  shall  deter  the  patient  from  the  irrevocable  stroke, 
and  persuade  him  still  to  bear  the  ills  he  has  rather  than 
fly  to  others  that  he  knows  not  of. 

Such  was  the  honour  paid,  such  the  authority  ascrib- 
ed to  these  physicians  of  souls ;  to  the  philosophers, 
who  feeling  keenly  in  themselves,  and  observing  all 
around  them  the  miseries  of  this  showy  but  empty  page- 
ant, searching  subtly  into  the  cause  from  whence  they 
sprang — apprehending,  however  faintly  and  vaguely,  the 
nature  and  effects  of  sin — spent  their  lives  in  teaching 
men  to  sympathize  with  their  fellows,  as  all  lying  under 
the  same  inscrutable  defect  and  baffling  of  existence. 
The  whole  world  they  felt  to  be  akin  to  them,  and  to  tlie 
world  they  went  forth,  as  upon  a  holy  mission,  to  teach 
and  preach  a  message  self-imposed,  a  message  of  love 
and  pity,  of  rebuke  to  the  proud,  of  comfort  to  the  suf- 


118  LECTURE   V. 

fering.  In  earlier  times  the  sages  of  ancient  Greece — a 
PytLagoras,  a  Plato — made  the  pilgrimage  of  science  to 
Ionia,  to  Italy,  to  Egypt,  to  learn  from  the  lips  of  priests 
and  eremites  the  truth  embalmed  in  a  precious  tradition, 
or  ascertained  by  old  experience.  There  was  no  such 
freshness  of  faith  now,  no  such  hope  of  moral  discovery, 
no  such  confidence  in  the  existence  of  positive  truth  at 
all.  But  the  heart  and  conscience  were  awakened,  and 
with  narrower  ends  and  fainter  aspirations  the  disciple 
of  the  schools  now  glided  forth,  not  as  a  searcher  for 
transcendental  verities,  but  as  the  preacher  of  practical 
philanthropy,  to  make  men  better  and  happier,  not  to 
make  himself  wiser.  While  the  Apostles  of  the  Saviour 
and  the  elders  of  the  Church  whom  they  had  ordained 
to  the  same  holy  mission — they  who  could  embrace  Paul's 
holy  aspiration,  'I  thank  God  through  Jesus  Christ  our 
Lord ' — preached  from  land  to  land  the  commandment 
of  the  blessed  Jesus  that  he  avIio  loveth  God  love  his 
brother  also — the  same  principle,  the  same  instinct  of 
lov'e,  the  same  sympathy  in  a  common  danger,  sprang 
spontaneously,  and  without  a  sanction  but  that  of  nature, 
in  the  bosom  of  many  a  soul-stricken  watcher  of  the 
wants  and  miseries  of  men.  Christian  preaching  found 
its  shadow  in  heathen  preaching ;  the  sermons  of  bishops 
and  confessors  had  their  faint  accompaniment  in  the  dis- 
courses of  philosophers ;  an  Apollonius  and  a  Dion,  and 
many  others,  expelled  from  city  to  city,  exposed  to  per- 
secution, threatened  with  death  for  their  doctrine's  sake, 
might  exclaim  with  the  Apostle,  that  they  too  had  been 


NEW   MISSION   OF   THE    PHILOSOPHERS.  119 

in  joiimeyings  "often,  '  in  perils  of  waters,  in  perils  of 
robbers,  in  perils  in  the  city,  in  perils  in  the  wilderness 
.  .  .  in  weariness  and  painfulness  ...  in  cold 
and  nakedness.'  One  of  them  could  beard  the  tyrant  on 
his  throne,  in  bold  reproof  of  cruelty  and  oppression  ; 
another  could  assuage  the  terrors  of  a  sedition,  and  the 
fury  of  the  legions,  and  plead  the  cause  of  the  debased 
and  trampled  slave,  and  rebuke  the  vanity  of  the  mob 
of  Alexandria;  a  third  would  shame  the  Athenians, 
when  they  proposed  to  desecrate  their  city  with  a  show 
of  gladiators,  exclaiming, '  You  must  first  overthrow  your 
venerated  statue  of  Mercy.' ' 

How  far  was  this  preaching  of  love  spontaneous  ? — 
how  far  was  it  caught  from  the  tone  of  Christian  preach- 
ing, which  I  cannot  doubt  was  beginning  in  the  second 
century  to  make  impression  upon  the  heart  of  stone  of 
the  heathen  ?  Who  shall  say  ?  Thus  much  at  least  we 
may  accept  as  unquestionable,  that  wherever  Christian 
preaching  really  penetrated,  the  greater  ardour  with 
which  it  was  delivered,  the  stronger  assurance  by  Avhich 
it  was  accompanied — above  all,  the  higher  sanction  to 
which  it  appealed — gave  it  a  force,  a  life,  a  power  far 
beyond  anything  that  could  fall  from  mere  heathen  lips. 
But  this,  I  think,  we  must  admit — and  this  in  carrying 
on  the  argument  of  these  lectures  it  is  important  to  urge 
— that  independent  of  Christian  preaching  and  Christian 
revelation,  and  of  all  special  working  of  God's  Holy 
Spirit  on  men's  minds,  the  heathen  world  was  at  this 
>  See  Note  W. 


120  LECTDKE    V. 

time  gravitating,  throiigli  natural  causes  such  as  we  have 
already  traced,  towards  the  acknowledgment  of  the  car- 
dinal doctrines  of  humanity  which  the  Son  of  God 
dwelt  among  us  in  the  flesh  to  illustrate,  to  expend,  and 
to  ratify.  For  it  is  not  among  the  philosophers  only, 
among  men  bound  by  their  profession,  as  truth-seekers, 
to  know  something  of  the  teaching  of  the  Christians, 
that  this  movement  of  philanthropy  is  found.  The  al- 
leviation of  slavery  by  law  and  custom ;  the  recognition 
of  the  common  rights  of  man  by  man  ;  the  softening  of 
the  brutal  usages  of  the  amphitheatre ;  the  elevation 
of  the  social  rank  of  women  ;  the  increase,  not  perhaps 
of  restraints  upon  vice,  but  of  horror  open  and  avowed 
at  its  practice  and  permission ;  a  greater  show  at  least 
of  respect  for  morality  and  virtue ;  a  growing  prepara- 
tion for  accepting  the  purer  law  and  higher  standard  of 
God's  holy  ordinances ;  a  preparation,  in  sliort,  for  re- 
ceiving at  the  hands  of  God's  ministers,  not  a  system  of 
theological  doctrine — of  that  I  am  not  now  speaking,  I 
shall  have  to  speak  of  that  in  its  place  hereafter — but  a 
republication  of  the  law  of  nature,  the  law  of  love  and 
mutual  consolation  ;  this  movement,  I  say,  in  all  its  va- 
rious phases,  may  be  traced,  not  to  the  special  intuition 
of  the  wise  and  prudent  only,  but  to  the  sense  and  instinct 
of  the  multitude,  gradually  constrained,  under  God's 
providence,  by  disgust,  by  fear,  by  spiritual  apprehension, 
by  scorn  for  the  world,  by  consciousness  of  sin,  by  the 
augury  of  a  greater  curse  impending.^ 
'  See  Note  X. 


DESTRUCTIVE   SHIPWRECK   IMPENDING.  12l 

The  empire  of  the  heathen,  the  empire  over  mind 
and  matter,  the  highest  culture  of  the  natural  man,  had 
gone  forth  into  God's  world  as  a  brave  vessel  upon  the 
ocean,  painted  and  bedecked  and  spangled  at  the  prow 
and  at  the  helm,  and  had  accomplished  half  its  voyage 
in  pride  and  security.  But  the  winds  were  now  arising, 
the  heavens  were  lowering ;  the  muttering  of  thunders 
was  heard  above  the  hissing  and  seething  of  the  waters  ; 
her  masts  were  groaning,  her  planks  were  starting. 
Among  the  crew  was  fear  and  sorrow,  and  confusion  of 
faces ;  they  felt  their  common  danger,  and  each  gave  a 
hand  to  the  common  work ;  each  cheered  his  fellow  with 
whisperings  of  comfort  which  he  but  faintly  felt  himself. 
The  terror  of  the  moment  bound  the  crew,  and  the  mas- 
ter, and  the  passengers  all  more  closely  together.  There 
is  still  hope,  brave  crew,  there  is  still  comfort !  In  mu- 
tual help  and  sympathy  your  ho])e  of  safety  lies.  Then 
courage  all ! — to  the  oars,  to  the  wheel,  to  the  pumps ! 
The  vessel  yet  rides  the  storm ;  all  may  yet  be  well ! 
Then  love,  and  aid,  and  encourage  one  another. 

And  here  we  must  leave  them  for  the  present. 
Another  and  a  wilder  scene  will  shortly  be  presented  to 
us — a  scene  of  desolation  and  dismay  and  frenzy;  of 
prayer  hoarsening  into  imprecation ;  of  the  cutting  away 
the  boats,  of  breaking  in  twain  the  oars,  of  rushing 
madly  to  the  spirit-room.  They  will  lash  themselves 
into  fury ;  they  will  quarrel,  fight,  and  threaten  to  slay ; 
they  will  prepare  to  go  together  to  the  bottom,  with  fire 
in  their  brain  and  defiance  on  their  lips.     But  when  the 


12S  LECTURE    V. 

Apostle  was  tost  on  the  waves  of  Adria,  and  '  neither 
sun  nor  stars  had  for  many  days  appeared,  and  no  small 
tempest  lay  on  them,  and  all  hope  that  they  should  be 
saved  was  then  taken  from  them,'  the  Angel  of  God 
stood  by  him  in  the  night,  sa;ying,  '  God  hath  given  thee 
all  them  that  sail  with  thee.' '  And  so,  even  now  in 
that  tormented  bark  of  heathenism,  the  Spirit  of  the 
Almighty  will  be  present.  Lo  !  the  crew  is  in  His  holy 
keeping !  let  them  but  turn  to  Him,  and  be  converted, 
and  abide  in  His  faith ;  there  shall  be  no  loss  of  any 
man's  life  among  them,  'but  only  of  the  shi]).' 

'  Acts  xxvii.  24. 


LECTURE    VI. 

EFFORTS  OF  THE  HEATHEN  TO  AVERT  SPIRITUAL  RUIN". 
St.  Mark  is.  24. 

And  straightway  the  father  of  the  child  cried  out,  and  said  icith 
tears,  Lord,  I  helieve  ;  helji  Thou  mine  wibelief 

CnmsTiANiTY  appeals  to  the  heart  as  well  as  to  the 
head,  to  the  feelings  no  less  than  to  the  judgment.  It 
teaches  ns  that  faitli  depends  upon  the  will  as  much  as 
upon  the  understanding,  and  therefore  that  it  is  to  be  at- 
tained by  the  exercise  of  the  affections,  by  love  and 
prayer,  as  well  as  by  the  exertion  of  thought  and  mind. 
This  Christian  paradox  is  illustrated  by  the  familiar  text 
above  cited,  '  Lord,  I  believe ;  help  Thou  mine  unbelief; ' 
a  text  familiar  to  all  Christians  at  every  step  in  their  re- 
ligious experience  ;  for  the  feeling  which  it  indicates  of 
the  insufficiency  of  the  intellect  to  comprehend  the  mys- 
teries of  God,  or  to  retain  at  all  times  and  under  all 
trials  its  hold  of  a  constant  and  fervent  faith  in  the  Li- 
visible,  belongs  not  to  the  mere  novice  only,  not  to  the  re- 
cent convert,  not  to  the  first  hearer  -of  Truth.  It  be- 
longs to  all  who  are  really  earnest  in  examining  their 
own  hearts,  and  jealous  of  a  lapse,  hoM^ever  transient, 


124  LECTURE   VI. 

from  the  fulness  of  spiritual  assurance.  The  text  relates 
the  occurrence  of  a  particular  incident,  but  is  registered 
for  all  time  ;  and  the  thoughts  it  suggests  may  be  useful 
for  all  time,  and  for  manifold  situations. 

The  father  of  the  afflicted  child  yearns  for  the  prom- 
ised relief.  The  condition  is  Belief  He  will  believe. 
He  makes  an  effort  of  the  will.  His  imagination,  on 
the  wings  of  love  and  prayer,  transcends  the  limits  of 
the  visible  and  the  possible.  He  flings  himself  into 
another  world  of  higher  existences,  and  powers,  and  pos- 
sibilities. He  sees  the  man  Jesus  before  him  dilated  to 
Divine  proportions,  and  shutting  out  from  his  field  of 
view  the  gross  realities  of  the  world,  with  its  material 
laws  and  its  narrow  limits.  The  spirit  is  willing,  but  the 
flesh  is  weak;  the  vision,  the  dream  of  faith,  vibrates 
before  his  eyes ;  the  realities  of  the  world  return  again 
and  again,  they  thrust  themselves  importunately  upon 
him,  and  threaten  to  recover  all  their  former  vividness. 
He  feels  his  faith  yielding,  his  spirit  fainting,  his  nerves 
relaxing ;  and  he  cries  out  for  help,  for  strength  to  hold 
on  yet  a  little  longer,  for  light  to  see  yet  a  little  longer ; 
he  cries  out  with  tremblings  that  shake  his  strength,  with 
tears  that  blind  his  sight,  '  Lord,  I  believe ;  help  Thou 
mine  unbelief.' 

Such  were  the  struggles  of  the  human  conscience 
when  Jesus  Christ  appeared  in  the  world,  and  held  forth 
the  hopes  of  His  healing  power  to  the  afflicted  and  mis- 
erable both  in  soul  and  body.  Such  are  the  struggles, 
constantly  repeated  through  all  ages,  when  the  know- 


8TEUGGLE   TO   ATTAIN   BELIEF.  125 

ledge  of  Him,  and  of  His  revelation  of  mercy,  is  set 
forth  to  tlie  sinners  and  the  spirituallj-stricken  among 
men ;  the  same  struggle  of  the  will  and  the  understand- 
ing, of  faith  and  fear,  is  ever  going  on  among  ns,  and  is 
the  condition  of  our  advance  in  spiritual  light  and  expe- 
rience. 

But  there  was  a  time  when  the  mercy  of  Jesus 
Christ  was  not  yet  made  manifest  to  man ;  a  time  when, 
though  he  had  actually  come  in  the  flesh  and  dwelt 
among  men,  the  world  was  not  yet  prepared  to  acknowl- 
edge it ;  when  his  appearance  had  not  yet  been  preached 
to  all  nations,  and  the  offer  of  salvation  through  Him 
not  yet  generally  published.  Nevertheless,  in  the  first 
ages  of  Christianity,  in  the  decline  of  heathenism,  there 
was  among  those  who  knew  not  Christ,  nor  perhaps  had 
yet  heard  of  Him,  the  same  struggle  going  on,  the  same 
opposition  between  the  will  and  the  power  to  believe. 
There  was  even  then,  at  least  among  some  meek  and 
tender  spirits,  a  will  to  believe  in  something,  they  knew 
not  what ;  a  cry  for  relief  from  some  quarter,  they  knew 
not  whence ;  a  suspicion — a  hope — an  assurance  that 
there  was  a  revelation  somehow  to  be  made,  a  revelation 
of  grace  and  mercy  to  the  spiritually  afflicted,  and  at 
the  same  time  an  earnest  wish  to  be  helped  against  their 
own  unbelief;  an  effort,  with  groans  and  tears,  against 
the  deep  despondency  in  which  the  absence  of  any  visi- 
ble object  of  faith  had  plunged  them. 

The  father  in  the  narrative  deeply  loved  his  son,  but 
his  son  was  afflicted  with  a  devil.     The  jreneration  of 


126  LECTUEE   VI. 

declining  heatlienism  deeply  loved  tlie  world  around 
them — the  brilliant  cities,  the  joyous  country,  the  temples 
and  the  forum,  the  baths  and  the  festivals,  the  objects  of 
art  and  luxury  with  which  their  homes  were  stored  to 
overflowing,  the  tranquil  ease,  the  leisure  for  study  or 
meditation,  the  security  of  their  long-established  civili- 
zation, the  treasured  results  of  philosophy  and  science ; 
but  the  world  they  so  loved  was  afflicted  with  a  devil. 
All  its  pleasures  appeared  hollow  and  unsound ;  sweet 
to  the  taste,  they  left  a  sting  of  bitterness ;  its  vices  were 
flagrant,  and  seemed  to  call  aloud  for  chastisement ; 
pain  and  fear  had  taken  possession  of  it.  There  was 
something  radically  amiss  with  it,  some  defect  in  its  con- 
stitution, which  plainly  threatened  it  with  dissolution. 
The  physicians  had  been  consulted,  but  without  avail. 
The  devil  had  torn  them,  and  driven  them  away.  The 
patient  had  himself  struggled  feverishly  against  it,  but 
it  had  ofttimes  cast  him  into  the  Are,  and  into  the 
waters,  to  destroy  him  ;  he  had  fallen  upon  the  ground, 
and  wallowed  foaming.  Such  is  a  picture  of  the  misery 
of  the  heathen  world  at  the  moment  of  its  highest  out- 
ward culture ;  at  the  moment  when  it  had  lost  its  faith 
in  the  heathen  religions,  and  not  yet  acquired  faith  in 
Christ ;  at  the  moment  when  its  eyes  were  opened  to  its 
spiritual  destitution,  and  the  chastened  feelings  of  hu- 
manity led  it  to  recognise  the  corruption  of  the  flesh, 
and  the  desperate  condition  cf  the  soul  that  lives  with- 
out God  in  the  world.  Anxious  to  find  some  one  who 
could  do  any  thing  to  relieve  this  sickness  of  the  world 


ECLIPSE   OF   FAITH    ^VMONG   THE    HEATHENS.  127 

around  them,  tlie  heatlieu  knew  not  yet  on  whom  they 
might  call,  and  who  would  have  compassion  on  them ; 
who  there  was  who  could  address  them  with  those  blessed 
words,  '  If  thou  canst  believe,  all  things  are  possible  to 
him  that  believeth.' ' 

Yet,  in  this  anxiety  and  despair,  the  heathen  sought 
out  a  healer  for  themselves.  The  sentiment  of  mercy 
and  pity,  of  mutual  sympathy,  of  an  ever-widening  hu- 
manity, which,  as  we  have  before  seen,  was  gradually 
prevailing  among  them,  the  sentiment  of  the  equality  of 
men  in  God's  sight  and  of  the  equal  claims  of  men  on 
one  another  accordingly — this  sentiment  seemed  to  give 
them  the  first  glimpse  of  an  idea  of  divine  grace  and 
mercy,  of  a  law  of  love,  of  some  spiritual  existence  ful- 
tilling  that  idea,  and  itself  appointing  that  law  and  de- 
claring it.  They  felt  about,  as  men  still  dazzled  or  pur- 
blind, for  the  BeiDg  invisible  and  inaccessible  to  whom 
they  might  appeal,  to  -whom  they  might  exclaim — in 
their  conscious  weakness  and  uncertainty,  and  amidst  the 
struggles  which  they  felt  within  them  of  the  flesh  against 
the  spirit,  of  the  understanding  against  the  reason,  of  the 
head  against  the  heart,  and  through  the  tears  which 
blinded  them  for  the  failures  and  vanities  of  the  world, 
and  its  pomps  around  them — '  Lord,  I  believe  ;  help 
Thou  mine  unbelief.' 

To  whom  should  they  apply  ?  How  should  they 
image  to  themselves  the  Being  whom  they  longed  for, 
the  realization  of  their  spiritual  consciousness?  The 
'  St.  Mark  ix.  23. 


128  LECTURE   VI. 

Gods  of  the  heathen  had  lost  all  significance,  even  with 
their  accustomed  votaries.  Mars,  and  Quirinus,  and  last, 
Kome,  and  Victory  last  of  all — the  many  names  of  one 
idea,  the  idea  of  a  local  and  temporal  Providence — had 
all  faded  from  the  imagination,  and  remained  only  palpa- 
ble to  the  senses  in  their  images  of  wood  and  stone. 
There  was  no  more  use  for  them  but  to  hurl  them  bodily 
from  the  walls  of  the  city  upon  the  heads  of  the  assail- 
ing barbarians.  The  old  mythology  had  long  fallen  to 
the  ground,  and  the  temporal  religion,  the  fiction  of  the 
magistrate,  which  had  more  recently  replaced  it,  while 
it  still  stood  erect  in  apparent  strength  and  majesty,  had 
been  tried  by  the  earnest  and  spiritual-minded,  and  had 
been  found  wholly  wanting ;  discredited  by  its  results, 
disproved  by  the  event,  by  its  manifest  defect  of  spiritu- 
al energy  to  chasten  and  control,  by  the  apprehension  of 
its  temporal  weakness  to  shield  from  disaster  and  dis- 
comfiture. 

The  civil  religion  of  the  Romans,  then,  has  virtually 
come  to  nought,  or  survives  only  in  vague  unreal  gener- 
alities, in  poetry  or  in  rhetoric.  The  personification  of 
the  genius  of  the  empire,  the  deification  of  the  emperor 
himself,  is  a  mere  make-believe  of  religion,  a  mere  arti- 
fice or  shift  to  save  the  appearance  of  a  political  con- 
tinuity. 

The  place  of  this  political  religion  has  been  occupied 
by  the  personal  hopes  and  fears  of  the  individual  wor- 
shippers. Mankind — the  spiritual  portion  of  them — 
are  too  really  anxious,  for  their  own  conscience'  sake. 


KISE   OF   TEESONAL   KELIGION.  121> 

to  be  swayed  by  sucli  ]3liant6ras  of  expediency.  There 
is  spiritual  peril  around  tliein.  Tliey  feel  that  they 
have  souls  to  be  saved.  The  deepening  earnestness,,  the 
anxious  spiritual  excitement  of  the  heathen  world,  as  it 
nears  the  period  of  its  absorption  in  Christianity,  is  a 
fact  of  solemn  import.  It  may  teach  us  to  apprehend 
how  great  was  the  impending  revolution,  how  wide,  how 
deep,  the  spiritual  movement  which  transferred  the  faith 
of  mankind  from  the  old  to  the  new  foundations.  But 
why  all  this  earnestness  ? — why  these  spiritual  apprehen- 
sions ? — whence  this  ever  deepening  solemnity  of  feeling  ? 
The  world  gliding  gently  down  the  current  of  circum- 
stance— rippling,  running,  rushing  onward — yet  knew 
not  of  the  Niagara  plunge  it  was  about  so  suddenly  to 
take.  JSTo !  but  the  teaching  of  the  philosopliers  had 
gradually  permeated  society,  and  sunk  into  the  minds 
of  thoughtful  and  earnest  men  ;  the  events  and  facts  of 
life  around  them  had  forced  on  tliem  a  nobler  view  of 
human  nature,  a  sense  of  nearer  connection  with  the 
divine,  of  the  independence  and  immateriality  of  the 
soul,  subject  to  higher  laws,  derived  from  deeper  sources, 
directed  to  grander  and  more  enduring  purposes.  The 
baffling  of  worldly  pride,  the  dashing  of  worldly  hopes, 
the  gradual  closing  in  of  the  political  curtain,  commo- 
tions within  and  the  barbarians  without,  the  ghastly 
blackness  of  the  aspect  of  the  future,  all  deter  men  from 
too  much  brooding  on  the  world  before  them,  and  di- 
rect them  with  feverish  haste  to  more  spiritual  aspira- 
tions Amid  the  impending  wreck  of  civil  society  creeps 
9 


130  LECTUKE    VI. 

ill  a  distrust  of  man  and  man's  assistance ;  an  instinc- 
tive cry  of  '  Save  Thyself,'  heard  in  the  recesses  of  the 
conscience,  drives  men  to  look  to  their  personal  interests 
in  regard  to  spiritual  things.  There  springs  np  among 
them  a  feeling  of  mutual  repulsion,  in  place  of  that  mu- 
tual attraction  which  in  ages  of  hope  and  faith  brings 
them  from  all  quarters  together,  builds  their  cities, 
founds  their  commonwealths,  and  establishes  their  na- 
tional religious.  Common  creeds  are  disintegrated  and 
split  into  a  thousand  fragments.  And  ever  and  anon, 
in  every  lull  of  the  all-absorbing  tempest,  penetrates  at 
hand  or  at  a  distance,  the  whisper  of  the  Christian 
preaching — a  still  small  voice,  heard  by  many  a  heart- 
stricken  heathen,  above  the  song  of  the  festival,  and  the 
blare  of  trumpets,  exerting  even  over  the  worldly  and 
the  godless  a  silent,  unacknowledged,  disowned  infliT- 
ence,  and  leading  all  men,  more  or  less,  some  faster,  some 
slower,  some  consciously,  others  against  their  will  or 
without  their  knowledge,  to  a  vague  impression  of  a 
spiritual  existence,  inviting  their  faith  and  commanding 
their  obedience.  Viewed  on  every  side  there  is  no  pe- 
riod of  history,  as  it  seems  to  me,  when  men  were  more 
in  earnest  about  spiritual  hopes  and  fears  than  in  the 
third  century  of  our  era. 

Baulked  of  his  carnal  hopes,  distrustful  of  all  human 
aid,  the  natural  ma]i  now  sought  vehemently  for  a 
personal  connection  with  God.  Eenouncing  the  idea 
of  national  communion  with  the  Invisible,  of  personal 
protection   or   salvation,  through   the   federal   compact 


THE   HEATHEN   SEEKS    GOD   IN   PKAYEE.  131 

with  liis  coiintrjnion,  lie  strove  to  iTiiite  his  own  soul  to 
the  spirit  of  the  universe.  lie  threw  himself  on  the  Infi- 
nite and  Invisible  in  prayer.  He  cast  from  him  the  tram- 
mels of  pride  and  prejudice,  which  in  more  cheerful  and 
frivolous  days  had  withheld  his  fathers  from  the  self- 
humiliation  of  the  prayer  of  faith  and  devotion.  He 
tore  asunder  the  cobwebs  woven  by  the  human  under- 
standing, which  had  been  wont  to  intrude  importunately 
between  him  and  the  mystery  of  Intinite  Power,  Mercy 
and  Grace ;  and  whisper  that  Infinite  Power  cannot  un- 
do what  it  once  has  done.  Infinite  Mercy  may  not  save 
what  has  been  once  condemned,  Infinite  Grace  will 
not  condescend  to  the  aft'ections  of  poor  human  infir- 
mity. True  that  Socrates  and  Plato  had  not  refused  to 
bend  the  knee  and  move  the  lips  in  prayer  ;  that  devout 
and  spiritual  men  of  old  time  had  aeknowdedged  a  truth 
in  reason  beyond  the  conclusion  of  the  purely  logical 
understanding ;  but  such  masters  as  these  had  seemed  to 
stand  apart  from  the  common  nature  of  men ;  their 
speculations  were  deemed  to  transcend  the  practical 
wants  of  the  human  soul ;  their  doctrines  had  been  ad- 
mired, and  passed  from  mouth  to  mouth  as  men  admire 
an  ideal  work  of  art,  but  were  never  taken  to  the  bosom, 
and  made  the  household  possession  of  the  multitude. 
Prayer  had  never  been  accepted  as  a  great  spiritual  en- 
gine by  the  Western  mind.  This  new  and  worthy  con- 
ception of  prayer,  its  nature,  power  and  privileges,  was 
Oriental,  Syrian  and  Jewish.  It  was  through  the  syna- 
gogue, I  doubt  not,  that  this  idea  of  prayer,  of  the 


132  LECTUKE   VI. 

prayer  of  tlie  righteous  man  availing  raiicb,  was  propa- 
gated in  the  Roman  world.  The  synagogue  of  the  dis- 
persion was  the  substitute  for  the  Temple  at  Jerusalem  ; 
and  the  incense  of  prayer,  the  sacrifice  of  the  lips,  re- 
placed among  the  Jewish  worshippers  abroad  the  incense 
of  myrrh  and  spices,  and  the  blood  of  bulls  and  rams, 
which  could  be  offered  only  in  the  holy  place  at  home. 
The  influence  of  this  Jewish  practice,  thus  stimulated 
upon  the  heathen  mind,  can  hardly  perhaps  be  over- 
rated. The  Jews  penetrated  every  rank  of  Homan  so- 
ciety. Their  manners,  their  rites,  their  religious  records 
and  religious  experiences,  their  moral  and  spiritual  ideas; 
worked  their  way  into  the  high  places  as  well  as  the  low 
places  of  Eome,  and  prepared  a  high  road  for  Chris- 
tianity by  refining  and  spiritualizing  the  religious  in- 
stincts of  the  heathen.  We  may  not  be  able  to  trace  a 
direct  effect  of  Christian  teaching  upon  the  mind  of  a 
Seneca ;  but  with  the  Jews  and  their  religious  notions 
there  can  be  no  doubt  that  he  was  well  acquainted  ;  and 
when  he  remarks  with  admiration,  not  unmingled  with 
awe,  that  the  Jews,  subdued  by  the  Romans,  had  in  turn 
given  laws  to  the  conquerors,  what  laws  could  he  mean, 
but  the  law  of  mind  and  conscience,  the  law  of  philoso- 
phy and  religion,  the  law  of  worship  and  the  law  of 
prayer  ?  And  thus  the  teaching  of  this  sage,  and  of  the 
schools  that  symbolized  with  him,  owed  doubtless  no 
small  portion  of  their  spiritual  character  to  God's  Reve- 
lation of  his  attributes  to  the  Jews.' 
'  See  Note  Y. 


INFLUENCE  OF  THE  JEWISH  USE  OP  TEAYEE.    133 

In  the  emperor  Marcus  Aurelius,  in  the  slave  Epic- 
tetus,  placed  at  the  opposite  extremes  of  social  rank,  we 
observe  almost  at  the  same  moment  the  same  devout  at- 
titude of  though  Both  equally  regard  the  received  my- 
thology as  absurd  and  baseless,  though  they  feel  bound 
to  abstain  from  direct  attacks  upon  it ;  it  suffices  at  least 
to  represent  to  them  as  in  a  parable,  the  idea  of  a  Divine 
superintendence — a  moral  Providence,  to  which  their 
religious  emotions  may  be  safely  directed.  To  this  Be- 
ing, this  Essense,  they  address  themselves,  a  being  more 
obscure,  more  mysterious  than  the  Invisible  Jehovah  of 
the  Jews,  but  accessible  enough  to  the  conscience — pal- 
pable, as  it  were,  to  the  touch  of  faith — ^wlien  they 
throw  themselves  before  Him  in  spirit,  and  seem  to  em- 
brace His  knees  in  the  attitude  of  prayer.  Their  pray- 
ers are  not  the  crude  and  fantastic  eflusions  of  the  wor- 
shippers of  a  deity  in  the  form  and  likeness  of  man,  who 
regard  their  God  as  endued  with  parts  and  passions  such 
as  their  own — the  mere  reflex  of  their  own  grovelling 
nature,  and  composed  of  seliish  appetites  and  unholy 
imaginations,  whose  aid  and  favour  they  invoke  in  every 
entei-prise  of  lust  or  malice.  They  do  not  exclaim,  '  O 
God,  avenge  me  of  my  enemy  ! '  They  do  not  w^hisper, 
'  O  God,  indulge  my  cupidity ! '  they  do  not  say,  '  Grant 
me  health,  wealth,  or  prosperity,  or  power ; '  but  rather, 
'  Keep  me  from  all  evil  desires,  even  towards  those  who 
have  done  me  evil ;  guard  me  from  too  fond  a  wish  for 
the  benefits  of  fortune  ;  make  me  resigned  under  calum- 
ny, content  in  poverty,  cheerful  in  sickness.'     They  are 


13-i  lecturp:  vi. 

well  aware  of  all  tlie  subtleties  by  which  doubt  and  per- 
plexity are  cast  on  our  natural  yearnings  for  prayer ;  but 
they  rest  secure  in  the  conviction  that  there  is  One  who 
hears  the  prayer  of  faith — who  approves  it — who  takes 
it  up  into  Himself,  and  through  some  inscrutable  agen- 
cy does  truly  reply  to  it.  They  are  not  cowed,  like  the 
hypercritical  logician,  by  the  great  paradox  of  faith ; 
but  are  ready  to  exclaim,  with  the  simple  eagerness  of 
the  Christian  proselyte,  '  Lord,  I  believe ;  help  Thou 
mine  unbelief.' ' 

I  have  cited  the  emperor  and  the  slave  as  the  two 
most  conspicuous  instances  at  this  period  of  the  incipient 
faith  which  seeks  to  exhale  itself  in  prayer  to  a  God 
unknown  to  it ;  the  most  conspicuous  in  our  eyes,  from 
tlieir  respective  positions ;  the  most  conspicuous  also 
from  the  frequency,  the  fervour,  the  force  and  freedom 
of  their  heavenward  aspirations  ;  the  nearest  in  their  day 
to  Christianity  among  the  heathen.  But  the  heatheu 
world,  even  in  its  scanty  remains  bequeathed  to  us, 
abounds  at  this  time  with  indications  of  the  same  pious 
yearning.  The  spirit  of  prayer  has  gone  abroad,  and 
leavens  the  mass  of  the  thoughtful  and  devout  among 
the  heathen.  The  effusions  of  the  philosophers  answer 
in  this  respect  to  the  preaching  of  the  Christian  fathers ; 
answer  so  far,  that  we  see  they  belong  to  the  same  age : 
that  the  one  in  some  degree  reacts  upon  and  tempers  the 
other,  and  each  is  reflected  by  the  other.  The  face  is 
not  the  same,  not  one ;  but  like,  as  that  of  brethren 
"  See  Note  Z. 


TOE    SrmiT   OF    PKAVER    HAS    GONE    ABEOAD.  136 

should  be ;  as  of  brethren  of  one  family,  the  family  of 
God.  The  Father  recognizes  His  children  on  the  right 
hand  and  on  the  left ;  the  child  of  the  boud-woman  and 
th§  child  of  the  free  woman  :  the  minds  of  men,  however 
separated  by  accidents  and  conventionalities,  are  evi- 
dently working  under  a  common  influence  unto  a  com- 
mon end.  The  goal,  to  the  ken  of  angels,  is  already  al- 
most in  sight,  though  men  will  still  obstinately  shut  their 
eyes  to  it,  and  in  their  passion  struggle  to  eiface  the  lines 
■  of  convergence  and  analogy,  to  deny  the  identity  of  ori- 
gin and  purpose,  to  foster  repulsion  and  discord  in  the 
elements  which  should  combine  for  the  production  of 
unity  and  love. 

Much  yet  remains  to  be  done  and  suflered  before  this 
unity  can  be  effected,  before  the  absorption  of  heathen 
devotion  in  the  higher  and  holier  devotion  of  the  Chris- 
tian. There  are  still  more  turns  in  the  way,  more  fall- 
ings into  error,  more  aversion  from  the  light  of  God  and 
prostration  before  phantoms  of  the  human  imagination. 
There  is  still  a  dark  hour,  the  darkest  of  the  night  of 
heathenism,  to  be  passed,  before  the  dawn  of  the  sun  of 
the  Gospel,  and  the  rise  of  true  religion  in  the  soul.  The 
spirit  of  prayer,  the  yearning  for  communion  witli  God, 
have  been  awakened;  but  this  spirit,  this  yearning,  will 
surely  generate  error  in  the  heart  of  the  natural  man, 
unenlightened,  unconverted,  unsanctified  by  the  Holy 
Spirit,  who  is  God  Himself.  A  new  sense  of  religious 
need  has  been  awakened,  and  straightway  it  creates  a 
new  superstition,  a  development  of  the  religious  sense 


136  LECTURE    VI. 

the  more  curious  and  instructive  as  it  runs  parallel  with 
the  historical  career  of  Christianity,  and  seems  to  he  con- 
sciously and  even  studiously  opposed  to  it. 

Of  this  new  religion,  the  religion  of  the  purest  and 
most  spiritual-minded  of  the  later  heathens,  of  this  com- 
bination of  a  creed  and  a  philosophy  which  is  known  by 
the  name  of  the  New  Platonism,  I  have  little  room  here 
to  speak.  I  would  only  remark  upon  it  as  a  special,  and 
in  the  West  an  unique  example  of  a  dogmatic  faith  evolv- 
ed from  the  pure  reason.  A  religion  professedly  based 
on  the  historical  records  of  a  revelation  Ave  can  fully  un- 
derstand ;  a  religion  resting  upon  mere  unhistorical  tra- 
dition is  too  common  to  excite  our  surprise ;  again,  a  phi- 
losophy which  seeks  for  spiritual  truths  in  the  light  of 
the  natural  reason  may  be  a  legitimate  effort  of  the 
human  mind ;  but  such  a  philosophy  makes  no  preten- 
sions to  be  a  religion.  But  the  'New  Platonism  was 
different  from  all  these,  for  it  combined  with  such  a  phi- 
losophy the  gratuitous  assertion  of  a  dogmatic  creed,  the 
issue  of  mere  caprice  or  guess-work.  It  was  in  fact  the 
engrafting  of  the  Oriental  Mithraism  upon  the  moral 
philosophy  of  the  Platonists  and  Stoics.  It  asserted  the 
existence  of  a  divine  hierarchy,  culminating  in  a  supreme 
essence,  a  triple  godhead  involving  Unity,  Soul,  and 
Intelligence,  but  descending  again  from  development  to 
development,  from  emanation  to  emanation,  through  a 
long  series  of  divinities,  of  genii,  good  or  evil,  opposed 
or  in  alliance — still  descending  till  they  touched  upon 
the  confines  of  humanity,  and  reached  even  toman  upon 


THE   NEW    PLATONISM.  137 

earth  ;  thus  uot  raising  man  to  God,  but  bringiug  God 
down  to  man. 

But  with  this  Oriental  divination  of  a  personal  god- 
head were  combined  the  spiritual  aspirations  of  the  Gre- 
cian philosophy.  The  school  of  Alexandria  accepted  and 
sublimed  the  loftiest  dogmas  of  the  Stoics ;  they  held 
that  man  might  also  be  raised  upwards  to  God,  even  to 
the  eminence  of  the  absolute  Being,  l)y  study  and  vir- 
tue: what  reason  could  not  acquire  in  knowledge  and 
spiritual  power,  might  be  revealed  by  enthusiasm  or 
ecstasy :  the  individual  man  might  lose  himself  in  the 
contemplation  of  the  infinite  God,  from  whom  he  origin- 
ally came,  and  to  whom  he  might  thus  ultimately  restore 
himself. 

It  is  not  the  soul,  they  said,  that  comes  to  know  God  : 
God  descends  into  the  soul;  a  touch,  a  sympathy,  a 
union ;  man  for  a  moment  becomes  God,  Thus  ecstasy 
is  the  ultimate  term  of  all  knowdedge,  the  crowning  of 
perfect  virtue.  It  is  to  be  attained  by  patience  in  well- 
doing ;  by  mortification  of  the  senses ;  by  extinction  of 
the  passions ;  by  repudiating  the  flesh  and  the  earth. 
Thus  the  sage  or  saint  comes  to  be  independent  of  the 
common  laws  of  matter — lie  gets  a  foretaste  of  disem- 
bodied spirit — he  can  rise  above  the  earth  into  mid-air — 
he  can  work  miracles — he  becomes  a  magician.' 

This  wild  scheme  of  human  religion,  this  last  utter- 
ance of  expiring  heathenism  points,  it  seems  to  me,  to 
two  things.  First,  it  points  to  the  need  men  evidently 
^  See  Note  A  A. 


138  LECTURE    VI. 

began  now  to  feel  of  a*ei'sonal  relation  to  God.  It  was 
the  completion,  as  far  as  liunian  reasoii  could  go,  of  the 
efforts  of  tlie  conscience  to  allj  and  unite  itself  with 
God  upon  whom  it  had  thrown  itself  in  all  the  energy 
of  prayer.  It  had  implored  of  God  to  reveal  Himself  to 
His  believers.  '  Lord,'  it  had  said,  '  we  believe  in  Thee, 
but  yet  we  do  not  know  Thee :  help  Thou  our  unbelief: 
reveal  ThysellV- make  Thyself  known  to  us — ^let  us  not 
burst  in  ignorance.'  And  then  it  had  gone  on  to  imag- 
ine and  invent  a  God  for  itself.  It  had  guessed  a  God 
after  its  own  conceit.  It  had  framed  a  religion  out  of 
the  depths  of  its  own  awakened  conscience ;  a  religion, 
not  licentious,  I  admit,  but  rather  painful  and  mortifying 
to  the  flesh  at  least,  however  it  might  pamper  the  pride 
of  the  heart ;  a  religion  requiring  a  long  and  searching 
initiation,  demanding  trials  of  fortitude  and  patience,- giv- 
ing glimpses  of  moral  regeneration,  promise  of  a  remission 
of  sins,  hopes  of  a  future  life. 

And  this  leads  us  to  the  second  point  we  have  to  no- 
tice, the  evident  imitation  of  Christianity,  the  conscious 
plagiarism  upon  gospel  truth,  which  marks  the  last  de- 
velopment of  religion  among  the  heathen.  It  is  suffi- 
ciently plain  that  the  teaching  of  the  Christians  has  been 
making  way  in  the  world.  Even  in  the  increasing  sym- 
pathy of  man  with  man,  and  in  the  development  of  the 
spirit  of  prayer,  and  in  the  demand  for  communion  Avitli 
God,  we  might  fairly  infer  that  such  an  influence  had 
been  operating  obliquely  ;  in  the  diffusion  of  the  Mithraic 
and  Gnostic  superstitions,  M'ith  the  germs  or  shadows  of 


PLAGIARISM   UPON    GOSPEL   TRUTH.  139 

Christian  truth  which  they  unquestionably  embrace,  we 
may  recognize  witliout  hesitation  its  more  direct  and  more 
powerful  effect. 

But  if  even  the  most  spiritual  among  the  heathen, 
permitted  thus  to  enjoy  a  breath,  however  faint,  from 
the  sources  of  truth  and  knowledge,  were  given  over  to 
believe  a  lie,  to  grope  in  a  world  of  darkness,  to  groan 
under  the  yoke  of  their  own  wild  exaggerations,  far 
grosser  was  the  lie,  far  blacker  the  darkness,  far  wilder 
the  extravagance  under  which  the  more  vulgar  and  car- 
nal of  them  laboured  in  their  efforts  to  hold  communion 
with  God.  The  exercise  of  prayer  has  led  men  to  a 
nearer  conception  of  the  Deity,  to  a  closer  sense  of  the 
reality  of  His  being,  His  presence,  His  providence.  It 
impels  them  to  yearn  for  Him,  to  draw  and  drag  Him 
down,  as  it  M'ere,  to  themselves.  What  then  does  the 
heathen  do  ?  lie  cannot  wait  for  Him  or  feel  for  Him 
at  a  distance,  he  cannot  address  Him  afar  off",  he  will 
not  brook  delay  or  impediment,  he  must  find  a  royal 
road  to  approach  Him,  he  will  make  Him  his  own  at 
once,  and  possess  Him,  He  invents,  or  rather  he  re- 
vives, he  multiplies,  he  exaggerates  long  familiar  meth- 
ods of  divination  and  augury.  He  dreams  dreams,  he 
observes  omens,  be  imagines  sights  and  sounds  of  fateful 
import,  he  fancies  that  he  works  wonders,  and  requires 
wonders  to  be  worked  for  him,  he  surrounds  himself  with 
all  the  artifices  and  instruments  of  magic,  and  exults  or 
trembles — exults  while  he  trembles,  and  trembles  even 
while  he  exults — in  the  fissurance  that  his  faith  lias  made 


140  LECTURE   VI. 

all  things  possible,  and  brought  God  down  to  bim,  or 
raised  him  perchance  np  to  God.  The  age  of  heathen 
prayer  and  devotion  was  the  antecedent  to  the  age  of 
Thaumaturgy  and  Theurgy.  The  one  followed,  it  would 
seem,  as  the  immediate  corollary  from  the  other.  The 
natural  man  had  discovered  the  necessity  of  a  god,  of  a 
providence,  of  a  moral  authority  and  sanction,  of  judg- 
ment and  retribution ;  and  he  rushed  precipitately  for- 
ward to  seize  upon  God,  to  bind  Him,  as  it  were,  and 
secure  the  means  of  access  to  Him,  and  of  compelling 
Him  to  appear  at  the  summons  of  his  votaries.  As  a 
ruder  age  had  bound  its  idols  to  the  city  walls  with  chains 
of  iron  to  prevent  their  deserting  it,  so  the  later  heathens, 
more  refined  in  their  conceptions,  but  not  more  truly  en- 
lightened, sought  to  clasp  the  invisible  and  impalpable 
to  their  souls  by  the  craft  of  magical  incantation.  The 
germ  of  a  spiritual  conception  of  God  liad  been  cast  into 
the  heathen  world  by  the  hands  of  Jews  and  Christians, 
but  such  was  the  strange  and  prodigious  harvest  it  pro- 
duced, wdicn  left  to  grow  untcnded  by  the  skill  of  the 
Divine  husbandman. 

The  impulse  thus  given  to  the  practice  of  divination 
was  accompanied  by  a  revival  of  the  use  of  oracles. 
The  impostures  which  had  died  to  the  roots  under  the 
neglect  of  genuine  unbelief,  sprang  up  again,  renewed  in 
life  and  vigour,  amidst  the  cravings  of  superstition.  The 
misery  of  the  present  time,  the  prospect  still  more 
gloomy  beyond  it,  seemed  to  impel  all  men  of  devout 
sentiment  to  anxious  enquiries  into  the  future.     To  the 


EEVIVAL   OF   DIVINATION   AND   OEACLES.  141 

happy  and  contented  God  is  love ;  to  the  alarmed  and 
miserable  God  is  fear.  To  decrepit  lieathenism  God  was 
fear,  dismay,  and  confusion  of  faces.  The  priests  them- 
selves, stricken  with  the  universal  panic,  swept  along  in 
the  common  vortex  of  despair,  amidst  the  fall  of  institu- 
tions and  dissolution  of  ideas,  were  the  first  victims  of 
their  own  artifices.  They  demanded  to  qualify  them- 
selves for  their  mystic  service  by  fasts  and  exercises,  by 
strict  seclusions,  by  a  studied  excitement  of  the  nervous 
system  to  a  pitch  of  frenzy  beyond  their  own  control. 
In  this  ecstatic  state  the  prophet,  self-deceived,  saw  in- 
communicable visions,  and  imagined  Divine  inspirations. 
We  need  not  doubt  that  much  of  this  delusion  was 
perfectly  genuine.  They  were  given  over  to  believe  their 
own  lies.  Worn  out  with  fastings  they  saw  visions, 
drugged  with  poisons  they  dreamed  dreams,  unnerved  by 
frenzy  they  imagined  apparitions,  fluttered  by  the  pulses 
of  spiritual  pride  they  believed  that  they  were  workers  of 
miracles  and  prophets  of  the  future.  But  more  conscious 
imposture  was  sure  to  follow :  for  imposture  follows  fa- 
naticism as  its  shadow,  and  avenges  with  a  righteous 
judgment  every  moral  extravagance.  The  impostors 
themselves  found  their  Nemesis  in  the  aroused  curiosity 
of  the  sceptics,  and  the  final  detection  of  their  or- 
ganized deceit.  What  yet  remained  of  reason  in  the 
heathen  world,  first  staggered,  then  irritated,  at  last 
aroused  to  strict  enquiry  by  the  audacious  attempt  to 
master  it,  tore  the  veil  asunder,  and  exposed  the  empty 
pretension.     The  records  yet  remain  ;  and  alas  !  tliat  in 


142  LECTURE   VI. 

these  days  tliere  should  ugain  arise  special  reason  for  re- 
membering and  referring  to  them, — records,  I  say,  still 
remain  of  the  various  forms  of  deception  then  currently 
practised,  and  of  the  exact  way  in  which  they  were  ef- 
fected. We  are  acquainted  with  some,  at  least,  of  the 
expedients  employed  to  represent  the  apparition  of  gods 
and  demons  and  the  spirits  of  the  departed  to  the  eye  of 
the  half-delirious  votary.  He  was  bid  to  look  into  a 
basin  filled  with  water,  the  bottom  of  which  had  been 
cov^ertly  replaced  with  -glass,  with  an  opening  in  the 
floor  beneath.  The  form  for  which  he  enquired  was  re- 
vealed to  him  from  below  ;  or  the  figure  was  traced  in- 
visibly on  the  wall,  and  lightly  touched  with  a  combus- 
tible composition ;  a  torch  was  applied,  and  the  god  or 
demon  or  spirit  was  suddenly  displayed  in  fire.  The 
ancients,  it  seems,  could  employ  many  of  our  secret 
agents  of  deceit ;  sympathetic  ink  was  not  unknown  to 
their  adepts  and  impostors.  Their  conjurors  and  jug- 
glers were  to  the  full  as  skilful  as  ours ;  and  their  arts 
were  turned  to  account  for  objects  far  more  serious  than 
the  mere  buffoonery  of  the  streets.  It  is  well,  even  for 
our  use  and  instruction,  that  those  tricks  were  exposed 
at  the  time,  and  the  record  of  them  perpetuated.  The 
phenomena  of  modern  spiritualism,  whatever  their 
actual  origin,  are,  I  believe,  an  exact  reproduction  of  the 
presumed  wonders  of  the  third  century ;  of  an  age  not 
unlike  our  own  in  credulity,  and  in  incredulity,  in 
nervous  irritability,  in  impatience  of  the  grave  teachings 
of  experience.     For  our  age,  as  well  as  for  his  own,  even 


ANCIENT   AND   MODERN    SPIRITUALISM.  148 

the  scoffer  Lucian  lias  not  lived  in  vain.     Wc  cannot 
even  yet  afford  to  consign  Lis  banter  to  oblivion.' 

I  have  noticed  how  in  these  performances  delnsion 
and  deceit  were  actually  intermingled.  Must  we  make 
allowance  for  the  weakness  of  poor  human  nature  ? 
Must  wa  grant  indulgence  to  its  fond  efforts  to  create  a 
soul  under  the  ribs  of  the  spiritual  death  which  it  was 
daily  dying?  Such  allowance,  such  indulgence,  I  for 
one  dare  not  claim  for  it.  I  believe  that  the  attempt 
was  conceived  in  sin,  as  it  issued  in  sin.  God  saw  that 
it  was  sin  ;  sin  in  its  perversion  of  the  moral  law ;  sin 
in  its  veiling  of  the  natural  light  of  truth ;  in  its  con- 
ceit of  human  power  and  independence.  The  sin  was 
revealed  in  its  results.  For  conjuring  and  necromancy 
led  promptly  to  a  cruel  fanaticism  ;  they  excited  a  fear- 
ful apprehension  of  the  spiritual  world,  of  the  hideous- 
ness  of  the  angry  demons  of  darkness ;  and  to  the  most 
terrible  expedients  for  baffling  or  appeasing  them.  An 
atonement  of  blood  was  demanded  for  a  reconciliation 
with  hell.  Hence  the  revival  of  human  sacrifices  with 
which  many  an  altar  was  stained ;  still  more  the  convic- 
tion, deliberately  entertained,  that  it  was  only  by  the  of- 
fering of  man's  best  and  dearest  that  the  inscrutable 
could  be  discovered,  and  the  implacable  appeased.  Be- 
lief in  God,  belief  in  a  personal  connection  with  God, 
in  the  possibility  of  personal  communion  with  God,  led 
the  natural  man  directly  to  the  fearful    sense    of  his 

'  See  Note  B  B. 


1-14  LECTURE    VI. 

distance  from  Him,  of  estrangement  from  Him,  of 
dread  of  His  wrath,  of  despair  of  His  mercj.  The  per- 
secution of  the  Christians,  the  martyrdoms  of  the  stake 
and  the  amphitheatre,  the  cry  of  '  the  Christians  to  the 
lions,'  was  one  vast  scheme  of  human  sacrifice  for  the 
propitiation  of  this  averted  Deity.  The  persecution  by 
l^ero  was  an  atonement  for  the  burning  of  the  city ;  the 
persecution  by  Domitian  for  the  destruction  of  tlie 
Capitol ;  the  persecution  by  Trajan  for  the  overthrow  of 
Antioch  by  an  earthquake ;  the  persecution  of  Aurelius 
for  the  world-wide  pestilence  which  swept  the  empire 
with  an  universal  disaster.  N^ot  yet  satisfied,  not  yet  re- 
lieved— nay,  as  dangers  and  distresses  thicken  around 
him,  more  agitated,  more  alarmed,  more  furious  than 
ever — the  heathen  defies  the  Christian  to  mortal  combat 
in  the  latter  persecutions  of  Decius  and  Diocletian  :  he 
will  sweep  away  the  enemies  of  his  gods  in  one  hurricane 
of  slaughter,  or  perish  together  with  them  in  the  im- 
pending ruin  of  his  polity  and  culture.' 

This  last  revelation  of  cruelty  and  fanaticism  was  not 
needed  to  convince  us  of  the  moral  superiority  of  the  re- 
generated believer  over  the  heathen  seeker  after  truth. 
Whatever  be  the  weaknesses  betrayed  by  the  early  Chris- 
tians themselves,  whatever  ignorance  or  credulity,  what- 
ever superstitious  fancies,  whatever  extravagance  in  act 
or  creed,  whatever  disparagement  has  been  cast  on  Chris- 
tian faith  and  truth  by  the  errors  of  its  early  disciples,  on 

'  Sec  Note  C  C. 


SUPEEIOEITY    OF   THE    CHKISTIANS.  145 

whom  the  shadows  of  an  age  of  darkness  still  partially 
lingered ;  this  I  am  bold  to  affirm,  that  morally  and  in- 
tellectually, in  heart  and  understanding,  the  Christians 
of  the  empire  are  to  the  heathens  of  the  empire  as  men 
of  a  purer  blood  and  a  nobler  spiritual  lineage.  In  their 
writings,  whatever  errors  w^e  may  note  in  them,  we  breathe 
a  purer  atmosphere ;  in  their  actions,  whatever  infirmities 
we  may  trace  in  them,  we  discover  a  higher  rule.  Their 
society  is  pervaded  by  a  new  and  freer  spirit.  A  new 
principle  is  developed  in  it.  Their  love  indeed  is  but  the 
love  of  the  most  refined  of  the  heathens  ten  times  refin- 
ed ;  his  sympathy  infinitely  expanded :  but  their  faith, 
their  belief  in  the  being  and  providence  of  (rod — in  the 
love  and  goodness  of  God — in  the  reality  of  sin  and 
human  corruption,  mingled  with  the  assurance  of  God's 
reconciliation  to  sinners — in  the  one  sufficient  atonement 
by  the  blood  of  a  divine  victim — is  a  new  principle,  a 
new  germ  of  religious  life,  the  token  of  a  genuine  reve- 
lation. The  fashion  of  the  ancient  world  is  perishing ; 
and  the  modern  world,  with  a  philosophy  and  morality, 
a  faith  and  practice  of  its  own,  is  shaping  itself  out  of 
chaos.  Again  the  Spirit  of  God  is  moving  upon  the  face 
of  the  waters :  again  the  voice  of  the  watchman  on  the 
hills  is  heard  replying  to  the  challenge,  '  What  of  the 
night  ? '  the  genesis  of  a  new  heaven  and  a  new  earth  is 
commencing,  with  the  new  Adam  for  their  Lord,  with 
the  Gospel  for  the  bow  of  His  covenant,  with  the  new 
Jerusalem  for  their  metropolis,  and  the  kingdom  of  God 
10 


146  LECTURE    VI. 

for  their  final  inlieritance.  Even  from  tlie  bosom  of  an 
eifete  and  dying  society  a  new  life  is  springing,  in  which 
the  signs  of  health  and  vigour,  of  truth  and  soundness, 
are  the  more  plainly  revealed  from  the  very  abomination 
of  corruption  which  is  manifested  around  it. 


LECTURE  VII. 

THE  DOCTRINES  OF  CHRISTIANITY  RESPOND  TO  THE  QUESTIONS 
OF  THE  HEATHENS. 

St.  Matthew  xxyiii.  19, 
The  name  of  the  Father,  and  of  tlie  Son,  and  of  the  Holy  Ghost. 

We  have  marked  the  breaking  down  of  the  ancient 
mythology  of  the  Pagans,  and  again  of  the  political  re- 
ligion which  replaced  it ;  the  diffusion  among  them  of 
larger  and  more  liberal  conceptions  of  the  nature  of  man, 
and  of  his  relation  to  God ;  the  awakening  of  their  con- 
science to  a  sense  of  sin,  and  the  consequent  straitening 
of  the  bands  of  human  sympathy  among  them  ;  their 
yearning  for  access  to  God  and  communion  with  Him 
in  prayer,  their  fuller  acknowledgment  of  His  Being  and 
Providence,  however  disfigured  it  became  by  the  extrav- 
agance of  mystical  devotion  in  the  more  refined,  of  gross 
superstition  in  the  vulgar  ;  with  a  resort  to  magical  arts, 
with  self-abandonment  to  the  grossest  spiritual  terrors, 
culminating  in  panic,  despair,  and  bloodshed.  Many  a 
mind  was  now  ripe  for  conversion  to  the  true  God,  to  the 
religion  which  teaches  the  equality  of  men  in  His  sight, 
which  proclaims  the  abolition  of  exclusive  spiritual  priv- 


148  LECTURE   VII. 

ileges,  and  merges  the  city  upon  Bcartli  in  the  city  of  God 
in  heaven ;  which  finally  leads  the  sinner  to  the  one 
Being  who  can  forgive  sin,  bids  him  seek  God  in  the 
prayer  of  an  enlightened  faith,  entreat  for  reconciliation 
with  Him,  and  accept  the  doctrine  of  the  divine  Atone- 
ment, Mediation,  and  Redemption. 

While  thousands  day  by  day  were  going  through  this 
spiritual  process  and  attaining  to  this  blessed  conversion^ 
it  is  remarkable  how  meagre  are  the  records  of  their  ex- 
perience which  have  been  transmitted  to  us.  "We  would 
give  much  for  a  genuine  and  full  account  of  the  heathen 
pilgrim's  progress  '  from  this  world  to  that  which  is  to 
come.'  One  partial  glimpse  at  such  progress,  and  I  bo 
lieve  one  only,  is  afforded  us  in  a  work  called  '  The  Clem- 
entines,' which  pretends  to  narrate  the  conversion  of  a 
certain  Roman  named  Clemens ;  and  which,  though  itsell 
a  fiction,  is  clearly  a  fiction  drawn  from  real  life  in  the  age 
before  us.  It  represents  the  mental  condition  of  a  youth, 
devout  and  pious  by  nature,  harassed  by  intellectual 
doubts,  unsettled  by  the  strife  of  conflicting  opinions, 
longing  for  the  truth,  and  painfully  seeking  it,  till  led  at 
length,  after  many  a  pang  of  disappointment,  to  the  only 
sure  refuge  and  haven  of  the  soul. 

'From  my  youth,'  says  Clemens,  'I  was  exercised 
with  doubts,  which  had  found  an  entrance,  I  know  not 
how,  into  my  soul — "  Will  my  being  end  with  death  ? 
and  will  none  hereafter  remember  me,  when  infinite 
time  shall  whelm  all  things  in  oblivion  ?  .  .  .  .  Wlien 
was  the  world  created,  and  what  was  there  before  the 


THE   CONVEESION   OF   CLEMENS.  149 

world  ?  If  it  has  existed  always,  will  it  continue  to  ex- 
ist for  ever  ?  If  it  liad  a  beginning,  will  it  likewise  have 
an  end  2  And  after  the  end  of  the  world,  what  then  ? 
The  silence  of  the  grave  ?  or  something  else,  some  other 
thing  of  which  we  can  form  no  notion  ?  "  Haunted  by 
such  thoughts  as  these,  which  came  I  know  not  whence, 
I  was  sorely  troubled  in  spirit.  I  grew  pale,  and  wasted 
away :  when  I  strove  to  drive  them  from  me,  they  re- 
turned again  and  again  with  renewed  and  increased  vio- 
lence, so  that  I  suffered  greatly.  I  knew  not  that  in 
these  very  thoughts  I  enjoyed  a  friendly  companion, 
guiding  me  to  eternal  life,  nor  allowing  me  to  rest  till  I 
found  it.  Then,  indeed,  I  learned  to  pity  the  wretched 
men  whom,  in  my  ignorance,  I  had  deemed  the  happiest. 
....  But,  while  thus  perplexed  and  worried,  I  ran  to 
the  schools  of  the  philosophers,  hoping  to  find  a  founda- 
tion on  which  I  could  rest  in  safety.  But  nought  could 
I  see  but  the  building  up  and  tearing  down  of  theories ; 
nought  but  endless  dispute  and  contradiction :  some- 
times, for  example,  the  demonstration  triumphed  of  the 
soul's  immortality,  and  then  again  of  its  mortality. 
"When  the  one  prevailed  I  was  happy ;  when  the  other  I 
was  dispirited.  Thus  was  I  tossed  to  and  fro  by  contend- 
ing arguments,  and  forced  to  the  conclusion  that  things 
appear  not  as  they  really  are,  but  only  as  they  are  rejore- 
sented.  I  grew  dizzier  than  ever,  and  sighed  from  my 
heart  for  deliverance.' 

Thus  distressed,  the  devotee  of  Truth  would  seek  re- 
lief and  conviction  elsewhere.     He  would  visit  Egypt, 


150  LECTURE   VII. 

the  land  of  mysteries  and  portents,  and  extort  from  a 
necromancer  the  apparition  of  a  departed  spirit.  Could 
such  a  being  be  presented  to  him,  he  would  know  for 
certain  the  existence  of  a  spiritual  world,  the  immortality 
of  souls.  ]^o  reasoning,  no  logical  demonstration  would 
thenceiorth  shake  his  abiding  conviction.  But  a  wiser 
man  dissuaded  him  from  this  vain  endeavour,  and  from 
seeking  God's  truth  by  arts  which  God  has  forbidden ; 
from  sacrificing  peace  of  conscience  for  peace  of  the  un- 
derstanding. The  Providence  of  God  led  him  at  this 
crisis  to  the  preaching  of  the  Christians,  and  among  them 
he  found  in  a  legitimate  way  the  assurance  of  peace  which 
he  had  fruitlessly  sought  amid  the  wanton  fancies  of  the 
heathen.' 

That  assm*ance  and  peace  were  founded  on  the  belief 
in  certain  positive  dogmas,  which  themselves  exactly 
fulfilled  the  conditions  of  faith  which  the  heathen  had 
longed  for.  The  creed  of  the  Church — the  creed  trans- 
mitted from  the  first  preaching  of  the  Apostles — implied 
in  the  sacred  records  of  the  Scripture  canon — stamped 
with  the  seal  of  Divine  inspiration  ;  the  creed  maintain- 
ed by  bishops,  confessors,  and  martyrs,  througli  three 
centuries  of  trial,  and  held  by  a  firm  concurrent  tradition 
in  the  east  and  the  west,  the  north  and  the  south ;  the 
creed,  finally,  drawn  out  in  the  confession  of  the  Nicene 
fathers,  and  ratified  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  presiding  at  a 
general  council  of  the  Church ; — this  creed,  in  its  three 
great  divisions,  the  name  of  the  Father,  the  Son,  and  the 

1  See  Note  D  D. 


THE    CHRISTIAN   BELIEF   IN    GOD.  153 

Holy  Ghost,  replied  to  the  questions  of  the  heathen,  solved 
his  doubts,  showed  to  him  the  nature  of  God,  of  sin,  of 
redemption,  and  the  fact  of  a  future  judgment  and  final 
retribution.  It  laid  before  him  the  scheme  of  Divine 
providence,  for  the  salvation  of  a  lost  world.  It  vindi- 
cated God's  ways  to  man.  ]S"ot  answering  every  impor- 
tunate question  of  human  curiosity,  it  might  satisfy  at 
least  every  legitimate  interest.  It  might  till  him  with 
faith  in  the  Author  of  his  being,  and  persuade  him  that 
with  Him  all  things  are  possible,  that  to  His  all-knowl- 
edge and  all- wisdom  may  be  safely  left  every  question  yet 
unanswered. 

I.  The  creed  opens  with  the  assertion  of  the  being  of 
God,  of  one  Supreme  and  only  God,  supreme  over  all 
powers  and  dominions,  either  in  heaven  or  earth,  supreme 
over  the  abstract  conception  of  a  law  of  fate,  or  necessity. 
He  is  the  Father  or  Author  of  all  being ;  He  is  the  Mak- 
er of  heaven  and  earth,  and  of  all  things  that  they  con- 
tain, visible  or  invisible.  He  is  not,  as  the  heathen  had 
imagined,  merely  the  disposer  and  arranger,  but  the 
Maker  and  Creator,  '  Look  upon  the  heaven  and  the 
earth,  and  all  that  is  therein,  and  consider  that  God 
made  them  of  things  that  were  not.' '  Such  was  the 
gloss  of  the  later  Jewish  Church  upon  the  less  explicit 
statement  of  the  book  of  Genesis ;  and  such  was  the  con- 
viction of  the  Christian  Church,  deduced  from  the  un- 
doubting  ascription  of  omnipotence  to  God  in  the  apos- 
tolic preaching,  from  the  immeasurable  eminence  in  which; 

'  2  Mace.  vii.  28. 


152  LECTUEE   VII. 

He  is  placed  in  the  minds  of  Christ's  disciples  above  all 
being  and  matter,  existing  before  it,  and  outside  of  it, 
and  independent  of  it ; — as  when  it  is  said  of  Him  in 
Revelations :  '  Thou  hast  created  all  things,  and  for  Thy 
pleasure  they  are  and  were  created.' ' 

Again,  there  is  no  conflict  between  Him  and  mind ; 
no  rival  will,  no  concurrent  principle  of  action.  The 
evil  in  the  world  and  the  power  of  evil,  however  real  and 
personal,  is  only  a  perversion,  a  corruption  of  the  good 
which  He  originally  created.  It  exists  only  by  His  suf- 
ferance, and  for  His  designs,  under  such  limits  as  He  has 
put  upon  it.  The  dualism,  or  double  princij)le  of  the 
philosophers,  a  reality  to  them,  is  a  mere  expression,  an 
accommodation  to  human  thought,  among  Christians. 
It  is  enough  for  the  believer  to  know  that  his  life  below 
is  a  state  of  trial,  and  that  evil  is  permitted  for  the  per- 
fecting of  glory. 

Further,  God  is  Providence,  and  supports  and  sustains 
all  things  by  the  hand  of  His  power.  He  orders  their 
coming  in  and  their  going  out ;  He  keeps  them  in  their 
appointed  channel ;  He  leads  every  thought  and  action 
of  man  to  the  end  designated  in  His  eternal  mind ;  He 
is  a  personal,  living,  and  ruling  Providence.  He  nmn- 
bers  every  hair  of  our  heads ;  to  Him  are  known  the 
motions  of  the  stars  and  the  measure  of  the  sea-sands  : 
not  a  soul  is  born  or  dies  without  His  counting  it ;  not 
a  sparrow  falls  to  the  ground  without  His  noticing  it. 
Words  fail  us,  imagination  itself  faints  in  the  attemj)t  to 
■  Rev,  iv.  11. 


THE   PERSONALITY    OF    GOD.  153 

realize  the  intiuite  foresight  and  oversight  of  Providence, 
as  intellectually  accepted  by  the  Christian  believer.  The 
lieathen  disputant  Celsus  might  pretend  that  to  suppose 
there  was  one  and  the  same  God  of  the  diverse  nations 
of  Europe,  Asia,  and  Libya  was  incredible  and  absurd  ; 
but  to  the  Christian,  to  limit  this  infinite  solicitude  of 
the  Almighty  to  the  concerns  of  a  single  tribe  or  nation, 
to  confine  infinite  Providence  to  the  fortunes  of  Greece 
or  Rome,  to  draw  a  fence  of  human  interests  and  prej- 
udices round  His  ever  outflowing  acts  of  consideration 
and  mercy,  and  make  God  the  God  of  one  people — a 
mere  provincial  idol — would  be  the  height  of  folly  or  of 
blasphemy.  The  Creed  of  l^^icffia  threw  boldly  into  the 
world  this  first  fundamental  conception  of  a  true  divini- 
ty ;  and  deep  was  the  satisfaction  with  wliicli  it  was  re- 
ceived by  the  vexed,  the  wavering,  the  terrified  schools 
of  disenchanted  heathenism. 

II.  But  again,  the  God  of  the  Christian  is  distinct 
from  any  abstract  law  and  principle  of  nature.  Our 
Theism  must  not  be  confounded  with  the  Pantheism  of 
the  Platonists  and  Stoics.  '  Jupiter,'  said  the  Stoics,  '  is 
whatever  we  see,  by  whatsoever  we  are  moved  or  influ- 
enced.' '  God  is  the  world,  and  the  world  is  God.'  '  God 
is  all  matter,  and  all  mind.'  The  last  utterance  of  hea- 
then science  was  the  declaration  of  the  naturalist  Pliny, 
after  casting  his  eye  over  creation,  and  scanning,  with  all 
the  lights  of  accumulated  experience,  the  height  and 
depth  and  breadth  of  the  universe ;  that '  the  world — this 
heaven,  as  we  also  call  it — which  embraces  all  things  in 


154  LECTURE   VII. 

its  vast  circumference,  may  be  truly  regarded  as  itself  a 
Deity,  immense,  eternal,  never  made,  and  never  to  per- 
ish.' '  H^nce  followed  the  inevitable  deduction,  missed 
only  by  those  whose  common  sense  was  too  strong  for 
their  logic,  that  all  weakness  and  infirmity, — man  him- 
self with  all  his  sin  and  corruption, — all  nature  brute 
and  inanimate,  the  slave  of  man,  and  of  creatures  infe- 
rior to  man, — all,  all  is  God.  Evil  is  God;  Sin  is  God. 
Tliis  is  Pantheism,  twin-brother  of  Atheism.  This  is  the 
end  to  which  the  Theism  of  the  lieathen  inevitably  tends ; 
to  which  the  Theism  of  the  Christian  would  tend,  and 
too  often  is  found  to  tend,  unless  counteracted  by  the 
conviction,  real  and  vital,  of  God's  personality  as  reveal- 
ed in  Scripture.  But  for  this  revelation  of  God's  per- 
sonality, announced  distinctly  and  characteristically  in 
the  incarnation  of  Jesus  Christ,  the  religion  of  the  Chris- 
tian would  have  run  in  just  the  same  vicious  course  as  all 
human  creeds  and  philosophies  before  it ;  no  purity  of 
morals,  no  holiness  of  ideas,  no  conviction  of  miraculous 
gifts,  no  assurance  of  an  indwelling  Spirit  would  have 
saved  it ;  for  all  these  elements  may  be  found  in  more 
or  less  force  among  the  heathen  systems;  the  salt  of 
Christianity  has  been  the  dogmatic  belief  in  the  incarna- 
tion of  the  Divine ;  in  the  personal  manifestation  of 
God;  in  Jesus  Christ,  the  Son  of  God  Himself,  God 
issuing  from  God,  and  returning  to  Him. 

'  I  believe,'  says  the  Creed,  '  in  Jesus  Christ  the  Son 
of  God.'     The  fatherhood  of  God  extends  over  all  man- 

'  See  Note  E  E. 


THE   ESrCAEISrATIOX   OF   THE   SON   OF   GOD.  155 

kind,  claiming  them  all  as  His  cliildren,  as  all  equal  in 
His  sight,  all  lieirs  of  His  promise,  all  partakers  of  His 
blessing.  But  this  sonship  is  illustrated  by  the  peculiar 
relation  in  which  the  divine  Son  is  said  to  stand  to  the 
divine  Father.  '  When  the  fulness  of  time  was  come, 
God  sent  forth  His  Son  .  .  .  that  we  might  receive  the 
adoption  of  sons.  And  because  ye  are  sons,  God  sent 
forth  the  Spirit  of  His  Son  into  your  hearts,  crying,  Abba, 
Father.  TVherefore  thou  art  no  more  a  servant,  but  a 
son  ;  and  if  a  son,  then  an  heir  of  God  through  Christ.' ' 
This  revelation  of  the  sonship  of  Christ  seals  to  us  the 
great  and  fruitful  truth  of  our  common  descent  fi'om 
God,  and  of  the  place  we  hold  in  the  divine  economy. 
'  Come  out  from  among  them,  and  be  ye  separate,  saith 
the  Lord  .  .  .  and  I  will  be  a  Father  unto  you,  and  ye 
shall  be  my  sons  and  daughters,  saith  the  Lord  Almighty."* 
The  fond  notions  of  the  heathens,  and  of  the  Jews  also, 
of  a  federal  compact  between  God  and  a  peculiar  people, 
are  for  ever  extingmshed.  The  principle  which  separates 
Christianity  from  all  previous  forms  of  religion,  the  prin- 
ciple of  its  universality,  is  finally  established.  There  can 
henceforth  be  no  return  to  Heathenism  or  Judaism.  Any 
system  which  is  evolved  out  of  Christianity,  or  raised 
upon  it,  such  as  the  Mahommedan,  must  accept  this  prin- 
ciple as  its  own  foundation.  The  enthusiast  of  Mecca 
was  compelled  to  claim  for  his  own  inventions  the  same 
foundation  as  that  which  Jesus  Christ  had  first  assumed 
for  God's  own-  truth.     The  lurking  heathenism  in  the 

'  Gal.  iv.  4-C.  ^  2  Cor.  vi.  17,  18. 


150  LECTUKE   VII. 

corrupt  heart  even  of  baptized  Christians,  struggles  here 
and  there  against  it,  and  seeks  to  set  up  a  local  divinity 
in  the  persons  of  tutelary  saints;  but  the  heart  of 
Christianity  ever  protests  against  this  corruption ;  and  the 
votary  of  the  intrusive  shrine  in  the  corners  of  the  tem- 
ple is  still  fain  to  colour  his  pagan  superstition  with  fal- 
lacious glosses ;  he  acknowledges  even  by  his  evasions 
that  God  is  one,  the  Father  of  all,  that  all  men  are 
equally  His  sons,  and  equally  under  His  sole  undisputed 
guardianship. 

Further,  it  was  '  for  us  men,  and  for  our  salvation,' 
that  God  '  came  down  from  heaven  ; '  came  down  into 
the  world,  in  the  person  of  the  incarnate  Son.  God  saw 
that  sin  was  in  the  world.  He  knew,  long  before  man 
had  made  the  discovery,  the  sin  which,  as  we  have  seen, 
became  revealed  in  the  fulness  of  time  to  the  conscience 
of  the  heathen  world.  He  had  prepared  even  from  the 
beginning  the  means  of  a  reconciliation  with  Him  whose 
eyes  are  too  pure  to  behold  iniquity.  Man  was  imeasy, 
terrified,  stricken  with  despair,  and  with  good  reason ; 
his  sin  was  greater  than  in  the  depth  of  his  own  self-ac- 
cusation he  had  imagined ;  the  power  of  sin  and  the 
devil,  the  author  of  sin,  was  more  engrossing,  more  con- 
straining ;  the  destined  retribution  for  sin  was  heavier 
than  any  human  terrors  had  conceived  of  it.  The  con- 
sciousness of  sin  was  the  lurid  reflection  upon  the  heart 
of  the  perils  and  sufferings  of  the  world  about  it ;  but 
man  in  his  most  dread  alarm  had  not  apprehended  the 
horrors  of  the  future  sufferings,  the  sufferings  of  another 


SALVATION  THKOrOn  CHEISt's  LITE  AND  SUFFERINGS.       157 

world,  wliicli,  wlieu  once  revealed  by  God's  certain  word, 
would  strike  des^jair  into  the  soul  of  the  sinner.  Man 
demanded  sacrifices,  tlie  blood  of  animals,  of  men,  of  the 
true  believers,  to  avert  a  temporal  retribution  for  the  sins 
of  which  he  accused  himself; — what  would  he  have  de- 
manded— what  hecatomb  of  victims  would  have  seemed 
to  him  sufficient  to  avert  the  spiritual  punishment,  the 
death  of  the  soul,  the  abandonment  to  hell,  to  the  black- 
ness of  darkness  for  ever — had  he  been  fully  aware  of  the 
estrangement  in  which  he  lay  from  God,  of  the  blank 
hopelessness  of  his  condition,  as  an  outcast  from  the  di- 
vine presence !  But  Christ  Jesus  came  down  from  hea- 
ven, dwelt  upon  earth,  died  upon  the  cross,  was  buried 
and  rose,  and  again  ascended  for  the  salvation  of  man ; 
the  all-sufficient  sacrifice  was  accomplished ;  man  was  re- 
deemed from  the  power  of  the  evil  one ;  his  soul  was 
restored  in  the  divine  image  ;  he  was  assured  of  accept- 
ance with  God,  and  eternal  happiness  in  the  bosom  of  his 
Father.  Such  had  been  the  terror  of  the  heathen  con- 
science, and  lo  !  such  again  was  the  teaching  of  the  Chris- 
tian Creed.'  Such  was  the  teaching  of  the  divine 
records.  For  it  was  not  a  mere  conjecture  of  devotees 
and  philosophers.  It  was  not  the  invention  of  sage  and 
godly  speculation.  It  was  not  the  augury  of  a  Plato,  the 
yearning  of  an  Aurelius ;  it  was  not  the  cheerful  hope 
of  a  Plutarch,  or  the  pious  fiction  of  the  schools  of  Al- 
exandria. Such  hopes,  such  fictions  we  have  noted  and 
lamented  in  the  restless  perturbations  of  the  heathen 

'  See  Note  F  F. 


158  LECTURE  vn. 

mind ;  but  "sve  have  seen  that  they  led — that  they  could 
lead — to  nothing  but  fond  and  ghastly  extravagances. 
And  why  ?  Because  they  had  no  basis  of  fact  to  rest 
upon ;  no  touchstone  of  experience  to  be  tried  by ;  no 
record  of  history  to  be  traced  to.  Christianity  is  history. 
It  is  a  religion  which  teaches  by  examples ;  a  revelation 
stamped  with  the  seal  of  accredited  fact.  This  it  is,  or 
it  is  nothing.  But  this,  I  say,  it  is.  And  so  the  creed 
emphatically  proclaims  of  it.  When  we  recite  the  solemn 
words — Christ  '  for  us  men  and  for  our  salvation  came 
down  from  heaven  .  .  .  was  made  man  .  .  .  was  cruci- 
fied under  Pontius  Pilate,  suffered  and  was  buried,  and 
the  third  day  rose  again  .  .  .  and  ascended  into  heaven,' 
— we  appeal  to  recorded  facts,  witnessed  by  men  upon 
earth,  and  attested  as  things  most  surely  kuown  and  be- 
lieved among  them.  "We  appeal,  now  as  ever,  to  a  Book, 
to  a  standing  and  abiding  testimony,  open  to  all  readers, 
addressed  to  all  hearers,  upon  which  sixty  generations  of 
men  have  successively  passed  their  judgments.  We  ap- 
peal  to  the  long  experience  of  mankind,  who  have  weigh- 
ed and  pondered  the  records  of  this  Book  of  books,  each 
according  to  his  own  light  and  intellectual  leanings : 
who  have  pressed  it  to  their  hearts  in  faith,  or  criticized 
it  with  all  the  powers  of  the  understanding ;  have  some- 
times worshipped  it  as  an  idol ;  sometimes  inquired  of  it 
as  an  oracle ;  have  again  sifted  it  as  the  pleader  sifts  the 
testimony  at  the  bar,  and  cross-examined  it  with  heat 
and  acrimony,  as  seeking  to  catch  it  tripping,  and  extort 
from  it  evidence  against  itself     And  this  is  the  result : 


THE    GOSPEL    AN    HISTORICAL    RECORD.  159 

the  testimony  to  the  truth  of  our  record  is  admitted  to 
be  more  complete,  more  varied,  more  consistent  than  to 
any  series  of  events  annomiced  in  the  secular  history  of 
antiquity.  No  mere  man,  king  or  statesman  or  warrior 
of  old,  is  so  fully  pourtrayed  to  us  in  the  incidents  of  his 
career,  as  Jesus  Christ  in  the  narrative  of  the  Gospels. 
No  writings  on  a  common  subject  leave  so  little  room  for 
questioning  their  general  agreement  on  all  points  of  in- 
terest as  the  Gosj)els  and  Epistles ;  the  fidelity  of  none 
is  more  strikingly  attested  by  fi-esh  discoveries  even  from 
day  to  day  of  their  minute  accuracy  in  detail.  They 
claim  and  they  sustain  the  test  of  genuine  history.  No 
other  account  of  their  origin,  however  often  put  forward, 
has  ever  long  maintained  itself  against  them ;  but  one 
theory  overthrows  another,  each  generation  launches  its 
own  extravagance,  and  each  gives  way  to  a  successor. 
The  infidel  makes  no  real  progress,  but  returns  from  age 
to  age  upon  his  own  footsteps.  Yoltaire's  theory  of  im- 
posture is  supplanted  by  Strauss's  theory  of  the  myth ; 
and  lo  !  in  thirty  years  Strauss's  theory  of  the  myth  is 
replaced  by  Renan's  theory  of  imposture. 

This  Jesus  CJhrist,  thus  declared,  and  thus  proved  to 
the  conviction  of  the  heathen,  has  ascended  into  Heaven. 
He  has  gone  back  to  the  Father,  has  quitted  the  world 
which  He  visited  once  for  all.  No;  not  once  for  all 
only :  He  will  come  again  once  more ;  a  second  advent 
remains  for  us.  He  will  come — not  as  a  Teacher  or  a 
Saviour,  but  as  a  Judge ;  for  to  Him  the  Father  hath 
committed  the  judgment  of  the  world,  and  in  the  fulness 


160  LECTURE   VII, 

of  time  He  will  cletennine  tlie  future  state  and  destiny 
of  His  creatures.  He  will  come  to  make  a  Hiial  separa- 
tion between  tlie  good  and  the  evil,  the  penitent  and 
impenitent,  the  Church  and  the  World.  There  will  be 
no  respect  of  persons  then ;  the  heathen  notions  of  merit 
and  works  will  be  utterly  disregarded ;  the  philosophic 
dream  of  an  aristocracy  of  souls,  a  spiritual  claim  to 
immortality  confined  to  a  few  favourites  of  God,  to  those 
who  can  claim  affinity  to  the  Divine,  to  those  who  are 
themselves  God-like,  will  be  finally  dissolved.  Jesus 
Christ  will  know  His  own  by  another  test — by  the  test 
of  faith,  fruitful  in  holy  practice.  The  systems  of  the 
ancients  will  sink  into  the  obscurity  they  justly  merit ; 
man  will  breathe  again,  relieved  from  the  incubus  of  ter- 
ror they  had  cast  upon  him ;  he  will  breathe  freely  in 
the  joyful  anticipation  of  a  righteous  judgment,  accord- 
ing to  the  blessed  revelation  of  the  Holy  One  and  the 
Just. 

III.  But  when  shall  all  this  be  ?  There  was  a  time, 
in  the  first  flush  of  Christian  faith,  when  the  Second 
Coming  was  daily,  nay  hourly,  expected ;  when  the  be- 
lievers looked  little  to  the  future,  which  seemed  to  be 
about  so  suddenly  to  close  upon  them,  and  fancied  that 
the  ministry  of  Jesus  Christ  had  been  but  the  beginning 
of  the  end.  But  time  went  on ;  there  was  no  sign  of 
His  appearing.  Jerusalem  was  overthrown.  In  one 
sense  He  then  appeared ;  His  judgment  was  made  mani- 
fest upon  Israel ;  His  Gospel  was  established  on  the  abo- 
lition of  the  law  ;  Christianity  was  shifted  from  its  Jew 


THE  MISSION   OF   THE    HOLY    SPIRIT.  101 

ish  foundations,  and  the  Gentiles  were  admitted  to  the 
promises  of  God.  Still  the  end  was  not  yet.  '  I  am 
with  you,'  He  had  said  on  His  departure, '  even  unto  the 
end  of  the  world.'  From  day  to  day  this  saying  assum- 
ed a  deeper  significance.  '  I  will  not  leave  you  comfort- 
less ;  I  will  send  you  the  Holy  Ghost  to  comfort  you.' 
From  age  to  age  this  promise  demanded  its  confirmation. 
And  so,  in  the  fulness  of  time,  the  Church  of  Christ  came 
forward  with  the  third  great  article  of  its  creed  :  'I  be- 
lieve in  the  Holy  Ghost,  the  Lord  and  Giver  of  life ;  who 
proceedeth  from  the  Father  and  the  Son  ;  who  with  the 
Father  and  the  Son  is  worshipped  and  glorified;  who 
spake  by  the  prophets.'  And  thence  it  went  on  to  pro- 
claim the  existence  of  the  Church  as  of  Divine  appoint- 
ment,— with  all  the  graces  and  privileges  which  are 
divinely  vouchsafed  to  it, — as  the  pillar  and  ground'  of 
truth,  as  the  eternal  witness  to  the  faith,  as  having  the 
spirit  of  knowledge,  and  the  promise  that  Jesus  Christ 
will  be  forever  with  it. 

Here,  then,  was  a  substitute  for  the  visible  presence 
of  Christ  upon  earth.  Here  was  an  answer  to  the  ques- 
tion, "When  will  He  appear  ?  and  how  shall  His  Church 
continue  without  Him  ?  His  visible  presence  is  not  re- 
quired. His  appearance  may  be  indefinitely  delayed. 
His  faithful  disciples  shall  ever  have  the  witness  of  His 
presence  in  their  hearts  by  the  indwelling  of  the  Holy 
Spirit.  The  world  shall  ever  have  the  witness  of  His 
existence  in  Heaven  in  the  visible  Church  which  He 

has  founded  and  protects  and  keeps  for  His  own  for 
11 


102  LECTURE  vn. 

ever.  The  saints  of  God  shall  ever  have  the  assurance 
of  His  power  throughout  the  history  of  religion,  in  the 
record  of  the  Divine  operations  contained  in  the  Holy 
Scripture  :  for  He  '  spake  by  the  prophets.'  The  Bible 
assures  us  that  the  Holy  Spirit  of  God  has  from  the  first 
inspired  and  fashioned  this  record  of  His  revelation  of 
Himself ;  the  manner,  the  extent  of  this  inspiration  is  a 
mystery  to  which  the  human  mind  has  no  key  ;  the  oj)er- 
ations  of  the  Holy  Spirit  are  manifold  and  diverse ;  they 
act  more  or  less  upon  all  men  ;  they  tend  to  a  Divine  con- 
clusion in  all  their  manifestations ;  but  we  know  not  the 
how  or  the  when,  the  whence  or  the  whither.  They  are 
compared  to  the  wind,  invisible  and  unsearchable,  which 
bloweth  where  it  listeth. 

But  so  it  was,  that  when  the  heatheii  who  had  sought 
in  vain  for  a  basis  for  his  faith  in  the  traditions  and 
speculations  of  old,  turned  to  the  Church  of  Christ,  and 
asked  for  the  proofs  and  sanctions  of  its  teachings,  he 
was  directed  to  a  Holy  Book,  a  book  of  vast  antiquity, 
of  liigli  pretensions  to  authority — a  book  which  gave  a 
plain  and  intelligent  account  of  God's  dealings  with  the 
world — which  pointed  to  the  tokens  of  His  j^i'ovidence 
running  through  it — which  evinced  design  from  one  end 
to  the  other — which  bespoke  a  unity  of  purpose,  and  in 
the  highest  sense  a  unity  of  authorship — which  revealed 
a  purer  conception  ■  of  God  than  any  known  before,  a 
higher  law,  a  holier  idea  of  religion — which  sometimes 
in  history,  sometimes  in  prophecy,  sometimes  in  the 
character  of  individual  men,  again  in  the  waxing  and 


THE   CITY   OF   GOD   ON   EAETH.  163 

waning  fortunes  of  a  people,  betrayed  a  thread  of  conti- 
nuity, a  sequence,  an  appointment,  such  as  uien  had 
yearned  for  and  vainly  imagined  in  human  affairs,  but 
had  never  been  able  fully  to  realize. 

The  City  of  God  took  the  place  of  the  city  of  man, 
and  overlapped  it  on  every  side  ;  more  ancient,  more  ex- 
tensive, and  more  enduring.  The  last  and  fondest,  as  we 
have  seen,  of  the  heathen  religions,  had  been  the  belief 
in  the  divinity  of  Eome,  of  the  Eoman  Empire,  of  the 
Roman  fortunes.  Through  many  an  age  of  victory  and 
triumph  this  faith  had  grown  and  flourished,  while  still 
implicit  and  unavowed.  It  was  in  the  decline  of  the  Pa- 
gan city  that  men  seemed  most  fully  to  realize  its  divin- 
ity, and  cling  to  it  most  passionately.  Long  did  they 
struggle  against  defeats  and  disgraces,  against  misgiving 
and  despair.  The  foith  of  Christ  was  already  enthroned 
in  the  East ;  half  the  empire  had  been  torn  away  from  the 
city  of  the  heathen.  Still  the  trembling  votary  fastened 
upon  what  remained — still  refused  to  listen  to  the  creed 
of  Nicffia,  proclaiming  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Spirit  as 
the  true  city  of  the  Christians.  Then  at  last  in  the  ful- 
ness of  time  came  the  assault  of  Alaric  and  the  Goths ; 
the  crumbling  of  the  walls,  the  conflagration  in  the  streets ; 
the  abomination  of  desolation  stood  in  the  holy  place  of 
heathendom  ;  the  temples  fell,  the  idols  were  broken,  the 
spell  of  ages  was  dissolved ;  the  Romans  ceased  to  be  a 
nation,  and  Rome  the  national  deity  had  no  more  worship- 
pers for  ever. 

That  was  tlie  moment  to  make  a  blessed  impression 


164  LECTUEE  vn. 

upon  the  mind  of  the  heathen.  Conversion  was  at  hand. 
The  honr  had  come,  and  the  man  was  not  wantmg ;  the 
man  who  should  interpret  and  apply,  under  God's  provi- 
dence, the  teachings  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  Scripture. 
The  manifestation  of  the  City  of  God  by  Augustine,  the 
explanation  of  God's  divine  appointments  from  the  cre- 
ation to  the  redemption  of  man,  was  a  full  and  final  ap- 
peal to  the  conscience  of  the  inquiring  heathens,  the 
stricken  and  despairing  votaries  of  the  discredited  city 
of  the  Romans.  The  manifestation  of  the  Holy  Spirit 
of  God  working  through  all  time,  by  revelations  to  the 
patriarchs,  kings,  and  prophets  of  old,  to  the  disciples 
of  Jesus  Christ  in  the  latter  days  ; — the  manifestation  of 
a  church  or  spiritual  society,  revealed  to  Abraham  at 
Haran,  latent  in  Egypt,  wandering  in  the  desert,  militant 
in  Canaan,  triumphant  in  Jerusalem,  captive  in  Babylon, 
oppressed  under  the  Syrians  and  the  Romans ;  sustained 
by  heavenly  food,  by  visions  and  inspirations,  by  miracles 
and  portents,  by  God's  effective  stay  on  the  right  hand 
and  on  the  left; — of  a  church  revived  and  sanctified  by 
the  special  revelation  and  ministry  of  Jesus,  refined  and 
purified,  and  brought  ever  nearer — aye,  into  actual  union 
with  God ;  expanded  (once  more)  by  communication  to 
the  Gentiles,  preached  to  all  the  world,  established  in  the 
high  places  and  the  low  places  of  the  eartli,  tried  by 
malice  and  envy,  pm-ged  by  sufl:ering,  confirmed  and 
rooted  by  the  storms  of  persecution,  protected  through 
every  trial,  and  against  all  the  powers  of  earth  and  hell, 
by  a  heavenly  arm  which  no  believer  could  fail  to  recog- 


THE   CITY   OF   GOD   IN    HEAVEN.  165 

nise ; — tMs  manifestation,  I  say,  crowned  as  it  was  by  a 
visible  completion  under  the  first  of  tlie  Christian  em- 
perors, when  the  Sancta  Sophia,  the  Holy  "Wisdom  of 
God,  was  enshrined  in  the  metropolitan  temple  of  the 
empire — this  manifestation  established  to  the  full  belief 
and  satisfaction  of  men  the  existence  of  a  city  of  God 
upon  earth. 

And  finally,  he  was  encouraged  to  believe  that  this 
church  or  city  upon  earth  was  but  the  type  and  shadow 
of  the  universal  city  of  God  in  heaven,  to  which  it  led, 
and  in  which  it  became  absorbed  and  mingled.  The 
things  that  are  seen  became  to  his  imagination  shapes 
and  patterns  of  the  holier  things  that  shall  hereafter  be 
revealed.  Such  from  the  first  was  the  mind  of  Scripture, 
the  sense  of  the  divine  revelation.  "When  the  Psalmist 
proclaimed  triumphantly  of  the  city  of  the  children  of 
Israel,  '  Glorious  things  are  spoken  of  thee,  O  city  of 
God,'  the  Christian  believes  that  he  had  a  further  spirit- 
ual meaning,  and  that  the  holy  city  on  the  hill  of  Zion 
was  a  type  of  the  Church  of  the  faithful  of  all  ages, 
transfigured  into  an  abode  '  incorruptible  and  imdefiled, 
resei*ved  in  heaven'  for  them.  And  yet  the  two  cities 
are  so  closely  joined  together  that  he  could  hardly  sepa- 
rate one  from  the  other  in  idea  or  in  language.  '  "We 
are  come,'  he  would  say  in  impetuous  anticipation,  '  we 
are  come  unto  Mount  Zion,  and  unto  the  city  of  the  liv- 
ing God,  the  heavenly  Jerusalem,  and  to  an  innumerable 
company  of  angels,  to  the  general  assembly  and  church 
of  the  first-born  which  are  in  heaven,  and  to  God  the 


166  LECTURE   VIT. 

Judge  of  all,  and  to  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect, 
and  to  Jesus  tlie  mediator  of  the  new  covenant,  and  to 
the  blood  of  sprinkling,  that  speaketh  better  things  than 
that  of  Abel.' ' 

And  there,  according  to  the  preaching  of  his  great 
teacher  Augustine, — in  that  abode  of  beatified  spirits, 
the  spirits  of  the  just  made  perfect  in  life  everlasting, — 
'  there  will  true  honour  be  denied  to  none  deserving  it, 
accorded  to  none  undeserving.  There  will  be  true 
peace,  where  none  will  suffer  harm  either  from  himself 
or  from  others.  The  reward  of  righteousness  will  be 
He  who  Himself  imparted  righteousness,  and  who  prom- 
ised Himself,  than  whom  there  can  be  no  gift  better  Oi 
greater.' 

Foi"  what  else  has  He  said  by  His  prophet :  '  I  will 
be  to  them  a  God,  and  they  shall  be  to  me  a  people : ' 
what  else  but  this  :  '  I  will  be  that  whereby  they  shall 
be  satisfied  ;  I  will  be  all  things  that  men  righteously 
desire ;  life  and  health,  and  food  and  abundance,  glory 
and  honour,  and  peace  and  all  things  ? '  For  so  is  that 
rightly  understood  of  the  apostle  ;  '  that  God  may  be  all 
in  all.'  He  will  be  the  end  of  all  our  desires,  who  will 
be  seen  Himself  without  end,  will  be  loved  without  sa- 
tiety, ^Yi[l  be  praised  without  weariness.  This  afiection, 
this  business,  this  function  of  our  being  will  be  common 
to  us  all,  like  life  itself  everlasting.'  ^ 

1  Heb.  xii.  22-24.  "  See  Note  G  G. 


LECTURE    VIII. 

the  godly  example  of  the  christlins  completes  the 
cox\t:rsiox  of  the  empire. 

Acts  xyii.  6. 
These  that  have  turned  the  world  upside  down  are  come  hither  also. 

I  SHOWED  in  tlie  last  Lecture  how  the  dogmas  of  the 
Christian  Church,  set  forth  by  the  council  of  Nica?a, 
replied  to  the  most  urgent  questions  of  the  heathen  on 
spiritual  matters,  and  offered  to  them  assurance  and  re- 
pose from  intellectual  perplexity. 

What  then  remained  that  they  should  not  be  con- 
verted and  baptized  into  the  faith  of  Christ  ?  Their  old 
gods  had  failed  them,  and  lo !  a  new  divinity  was  pre- 
sented and  recommended  to  them.  There  remained  that 
which  must  always  remain  at  the  bottom  of  all  religious 
questions,  that  condition  of  full  belief  and  acceptance 
which  no  reasonableness  of  doctrine,  no  harmony  of  sys- 
tem, no  holiness  of  moral  precept  can  alone  fulfil ; — the 
tender  and  yearning  soul  of  the  devout  inquirer  still  re- 
quires the  satisfaction  of  his  heart  and  conscience;  he 


168  LECTUKE  vrii. 

demands  to  follow  the  doctrines  in  tlieir  results,  to  scan 
the  precepts  in  their  effects,  to  observe  the  religion  in 
action ;  to  know  how  the  professed  revelation  of  God's 
will  works  practically  in  the  world.  He  wants  to  trace 
the  operation  of  inspired  truth  upon  the  heart  and  soul  of 
the  believer,  and  above  all  upon  His  own  soul  by  personal 
experience.  He  must  know  and  feel  tlie  beauty  of  true 
holiness,  and  learn  where  to  find  it,  and  how  to  attach  it 
to  himself  as  an  eternal  possession.  He  must  comprehend 
the  spirit  of  that  saying  of  the  Apostle  :  '  Whosoever  shall 
confess  that  Jesus  Christ  is  the  Son  of  God,  God  dwelleth 
in  him,  and  he  in  God.' ' 

On  bringing  to  a  close  the  partial  survey  we  have 
taken  of  the  conversion  of  the  Empire  to  Christ,  we 
must  now  glance  at  the  aspect  of  Christian  society,  as 
it  presented  itself  to  the  view  of  the  still  dubious  and 
hesitatino;  heathen.  The  men  who  had  turned  the 
world  upside  down  had  come  to  him,  had  found  him 
out,  M^herever  he  was,  in  the  stronghold  of  his  religion, 
o{  his  philosophy,  of  his  pride,  of  his  indifference. 
They  had  come  to  him,  and  their  importunity  allowed 
him  no  rest.  Who  and  what  manner  of  men  were 
they  ? 

IN'ow,  we  read  in  the  lYth  chapter  of  the  Acts  of  the 
Apostles,  that  when  Paul  and  Silas  crossed  ovei-  from 
Asia  into  Europe,  and  preached  the  Gospel  in  Thes- 
salonica,  the  first  great  city  on  this  side  of  the  Hellespont 
—and  when  some  of  those  which  consorted  with  them 

'  1  John  iv.  15. 


TEE   ASPECT   OF   CHRISTIAN    SOCIETY.  160 

believed — the  Jews  tlierc  residing,  moved  with  envy, 
gathered  a  corapanv,  made  a  tmnult,  drew  some  of  the 
brethren  before  the  heathen  rnlers,  crying,  '  These  that 
have  turned  the  world  upside  down  are  come  hither  also. 
xind  these,'  tliey  continued,  '  all  do  contrary  to  the  de- 
crees of  Ca3sar,  saying  that  there  is  another  king,  one 
Jesus.' 

To  those  who  look  back  upon  the  history  of  Chris- 
tianity, what  irony  appears  in  this  passage  !  How  peev- 
ish an  exaggeration  seems  this  cry  in  the  mouth  of  those 
who  uttered  it !  How  little  had  the  preachers  of  the 
Gospel  yet  done !  How  far  were  they  from  turning  the 
world  upside  down — from  overthrowing  the  beliefs  of  the 
time,  from  upsetting  the  deep-rooted  system  of  religious 
domination  ;  fi-om  unhinging  the  conscience  of  tlie  hea- 
then world,  even  of  that  Eastern  world,  the  world  of 
ancient  creeds  and  philosophies,  from  whence  they  had 
come  '  hither,'  to  the  TVest,  to  make  their  first  assault  on 
the  steadfast  polities  of  Europe.  What  had  they  ac- 
complished hitherto  ?  In  a  few  cities  of  Asia  they  had 
impugned  the  national  belief  of  a  handful  of  Jewish  res- 
idents. In  Jerusalem,  the  home  of  the  Jewish  people 
and  the  Jewish  creed,  their  Founder  had  suffered  death 
for  His  temerity,  their  preaching  had  been  forbidden, 
they  had  been  imprisoned,  scourged,  threatened  with 
death,  one  or  more  of  their  number  had  been  stoned  or 
beheaded ;  ilieir  doctrines  were  scorned,  their  manners 
and  practices  maligned.  Such  success  as  they  obtained 
was  limited  to  alarming  the  consciences  of  a  few  only, 


170  LECTURE    VIII. 

cind  tliose  mostly  of  tlie  lower  sort,  among  the  Jews,  and 
casting  into  the  minds  of  speculative  thinkers  some 
germ  of  doubt  and  suspicion  of  the  will  of  Jehovah  to 
save  Israel  from  her  sins,  and  restore  her  political  inde- 
pendence. They  had  scattered  here  and  there  the  seeds 
of  a  spiritual  interpretation  of  prophecy,  and  had  led  one 
man  or  another  to  look  for  a  spiritual  realization  of  their 
long-treasured  promises  of  a  new  heaven  and  a  new  earth, 
and  a  king  from  tlie  loins  of  David,  namely  one  Jesus, 
a  Saviour  and  Redeemer  of  souls. 

This  w^as  all  they  had  yet  effected,  as  far  as  human 
vision  could  penetrate !  And  how  had  they  been  re- 
quited ?  Wherever  they  had  presented  themselves  with 
the  words  of  love  and  wdsdom,  they  had  been  met  with 
insult  and  violence  by  the  Jewish  residents  in  heathen 
cities ;  the  feelings  of  the  natives  had  been  prejudiced 
against  them,  they  had  been  overborne  with  clamour, 
the  arm  of  the  magistrate  had  been  invoked  to  i)unish 
them  for  the  tumults  insolently  raised  by  their  opponents. 
They  had  been  driven  from  one  city  to  flee  to  the  next. 
]!^ever,  surely,  was  there  a  charge  more  grossly  belied  by 
the  fact  than  this,  at  this  time  made  against  them,  that 
tliey  had  turned  the  world  upside  down.  They  had  only 
cast  off  its  dust  from  their  feet.  Nor  more  true  was  the 
further  charge,  more  insidious,  more  invidious,  appended 
to  it,  that  they  '  did  contrary  to  the  decrees  of  Caesar, 
saying  that  there  was  another  king,  one  Jesus.' 

Yet  there  was  something  strangely  prophetic  in  those 
charges.     Far  as  they  were  from  the  truth  at  the  time, 


THE    GOSPEL    KEJECTED    AND   MALIGNED.  171 

an  era  was  coining  when  tliey  might  truly  be  alleged. 
At  the  era  of  the  council  of  Nicsea  it  w^as  indeed  true 
that  the  Christians  had,  to  use  a  figure  well  understood, 
'  turned  the  world  upside  down ; '  that  they  had  pro- 
claimed another  king,  another  polity,  a  temporal  rule 
under  a  new  sanction  ;  that  the  whole  framework  of  the 
heathen  state  was  overthrown  through  their  preaching, 
and  a  new  city  established,  the  law  of  which  was  God's 
law,  the  faith  of  which  was  God's  truth,  the  chief  of 
which  received  his  unction  from  the  Holy  One,  and  bow- 
ed his  knee  to  Jesus,  as  King  of  kings  and  Lord  of  lords. 

What  manner  of  men,  then,  it  might  fairly  now  be 
asked,  were  these  who  had  thus  turned  the  world  upside 
down  ?  What  was  the  law  and  rule  of  life  through  which 
they  had  done  such  great  things  ? 

It  was  none  other  but  this,  as  declared  of  old  by  the 
Apostle  : 

'  This  I  say  therefore,  and  testify  in  the  Lord,  that 
ye  henceforth  w^alk  not  as  other  Gentiles  walk,  in  the 
vanity  of  their  mind,  having  the  understanding  darkened, 
being  alienated  from  the  life  of  God  through  the  igno- 
rance that  is  in  them,  because  of  the  blindness  of  their 
heart :  who  being  past  feeling  have  given  themselves 
over  unto  lasciviousness,  to  work  all  uncleanness  with 
greediness.  But  ye  have  not  so  learned  Christ ;  if  so  be 
that  ye  have  been  taught  by  Him,  as  the  truth  is  in  Jesus : 
that  ye  put  off  concerning  the  former  conversation  the 
old  man,  which  is  corrupt  according  to  the  deceitful  lusts ; 
and  be  renewed  in  the  spirit  of  yonriniud;  and  that  ye 


172  LECTURE   VIII. 

put  on  the  new  man,  wliicli  after  God  is  created  in  right- 
eousness and  true  holiness.'  ....  And  so  after 
practical  exhortations  to  divers  acts  of  holy  living — '  Be 
ye  kind  one  to  another,  forgiving  one  another,  even  as 
God  for  Christ's  sake  hath  forgiven  you.' ' 

And  how  were  the  Christians  seen  to  carry  out  this 
divine  morality  ?  The  Apologists  may  answer  ;  Justin 
and  Tertullian  and  the  rest ;  who  writing  on  the  spur  of 
actual  exigency,  replied  to  the  current  calumnies  of  the 
day,  and  retorted  upon  the  slanderers  of  the  Christian 
Church  with  truths  manifest  to  all,  and  which  could  not 
be  gainsaid.  The  lives  of  the  believers  were  for  the  most 
part  exemplary  amidst  the  seething  corruption  of  the 
times.  The  heathens,  whose  conscience,  as  we  have  seen, 
was  roused  to  feel  the  enormity  of  their  own  conduct, 
and  of  the  familiar  vices  which  had  become  ingrained  in 
them,  but  who  had  not  courage  or  constancy  to  reform 
themselves,  to  expel  the  devil  who  had  taken  possession  of 
their  own  hearts,  might  behold  in  the  Christians  the  ex- 
ample and  pattern  which  they  sighed  for.  They  remark- 
ed among  them  sobriety  in  the  midst  of  moral  and  sen- 
sual intoxication ;  chastity  in  the  midst  of  flagrant  and 
allowed  licentiousness ;  good  faith,  where  to  betray  a 
trust  and  deny  a  deposit  was  the  rule  and  liabit  of  so- 
ciety ;  forbearance,  where  hate  and  vengeance  were  com- 
monly approved  and  sanctioned;  kindness  and  charity 
one  towards  another;  almsgiving  and  collecting  for 
the  necessities  of  the  saints ;   tending  in  sickness,  even 

'  Ephes.  iv.  17-24,  3i>. 


TnE   MOEAL    EXAMPLE   OF   THE   CHKISTIANS.         173 

to  the  foundation  of  charitable  hospitals,  an  institution 
unknown  to  the  selfishness  of  the  heathens ;  redeeming 
of  captives ;  burying  of  the  dead ;  courage  in  the  midst 
of  pestilence  and  contagion;  the  fostering  care  of  the 
community  extended  to  the  infants  and  the  aged ;  regard 
for  the  sanctity  of  human  life,  as  the  image  of  the  source 
and  parent  of  all  life  ;  love  to  man  as  the  child  of  God 
the  Father.  And  more  particularly  they  might  remark 
that  parental  affection,  too  often  violated  in  those  selfish 
daySj  which  shrank  with  horror  from  the  custom  of  expos. 
ing  children,  and  devoted  itself  witli  resolution  and 
industry  to  the  task  of  providing  for  the  pledge  of  God's 
love  in  marriage,  instead  of  fleeing  basely  from  the  bur- 
den imposed  by  it.  And  farther,  the  heathen  might 
remark  with  admiration  tlie  firmness  of  the  brethren  in 
relinquishing  many  modes  of  profitable  employment 
which  were  deemed  incompatible  with  the  Christian  pro- 
fession ;  their  boldness  in  the  confession  of  their  faith  in 
the  face  of  the  persecutors  ;  in  refusing  compliance  with 
the  forms  and  usages  of  the  heathen  religion,  with  the 
demand  for  sacrifice  to  idols,  to  swear  by  the  name  of  the 
Emperor,  to  wear  the  chaplet  of  the  triumphant  soldier, 
to  bear  the  banner  of  the  Pagan  army.  And  finally, 
they  might  regard  with  awe  the  patience  of  the  Chris- 
tian martyrs ;  their  constancy  under  torments,  their  self- 
devotion  unto  death,  their  implicit  reliance  on  the  spirit- 
ual promises  of  their  Master,  who  seemed  even  in  death 
and  torments  to  impart  to  them  a  portion  of  His  own 
divine  endurance.' 

'  See  Note  I  {. 


174  LECTURE    VIII. 

Sucli  was  the  outward  bearing  of  the  individual  Chris- 
tian, such  the  character  of  his  society,  patent  to  the  ob- 
servation of  the  incredulous  world  around  it. 

And  such  the  heathen,  proud  and  incredulous  as  he 
Avaa,  himself  acknowledged  it,  in  the  well-known  letter 
of  Pliny, — the  first  Christian  apology,  as  it  has  been 
called  ;  when  with  every  wish  to  find  reasonable  ground 
for  the  coniijlaints  advanced  against  the  Christians,  he 
could  on  the  strictest  inquiry  discover  none ;  when  tlie 
slanders  of  the  wicked  resolved  themselves  on  examina- 
tion into  a  confession  of  their  innocence,  and  the  curse 
was  changed  into  a  blessing.  They  used,  it  was  found,  to 
meet  together  on  certain  days  ;  they  joined  in  a  hymn  of 
praise  to  Christ  their  God ;  they  bound  one  another,  not 
to  the  commission  of  any  crime,  but  to  refrain  from  theft, 
from  adnltery,  to  keep  their  promises  and  hold  their 
pledges  sacred  ;  they  partook  of  a  simple  meal  in  common, 
a  meal  of  charity  and  sobriety.  And  hence  the  crowning 
eulogium  which  another  heathen  was  constrained  to  pass 
upon  them :  '  See  how  these  Christians  love  one  an- 
other.' 

]S^or  were  these  outward  tokens  of  purity  and  holiness 
merely  casual  and  variable.  The  heathen  indeed  might 
judge  tliem  by  the  signs  which  were  apparent  only,  by 
outward  phenomena  ;  but  the  Christian  knew  the  law  by 
which  these  phenomena  M'ere  regulated.  The  Christian 
could  appeal  to  rules  and  public  institutions,  which  be- 
came a  standing  guarantee  of  the  fixedness  of  these 
practical  graces.    The  institution  of  baptism  was  a  pledge, 


THE    CAKE    OF    CIIKISTIAIS*    MORALITY.  175 

given  in  the  face  of  the  Church,  given  before  jealous  wit- 
nesses, that  the  believer  once  initiated,  once  received, 
f^hpnld  keep  to  the  uttermost  every  promise  then  made 
by  him.  Baptism  was  a  sacrament,  a  vow  pledged  to 
the  highest  authority,  to  God  Himself  through  His  ap- 
pointed ministers;  a  vow  such  as  the  Roman  felt  the  full 
force  of,  whi(5h  brought  to  his  imagination  the  holiest 
sanctions  of  his  own  religious  ritual.  Giving  his  hand 
to  the  bishop  or  minister,  the  candidate  for  admission  to 
the  Christian  covenant  declared  aloud  his  renunciation 
of  the  devil,  the  world,  and  the  flesh  ;  his  abjuration  of 
all  heathen  ceremonies,  of  the  idols  and  demons  of  the 
heathen  hierarchy.  He  separated  himself  from  the 
kingdom  of  the  Evil  One,  and  came  over  to  the  dominion 
of  Christ ;  he  swore  to  be  His  soldier  and  servant,  as  the 
Roman  legionary  swore  obedience  to  his  military  chief. 
He  swore  to  abandon,  with  God's  grace,  the  lusts  of  the 
rebellious  flesh,  to  lead  a  holy  and  a  Christian  life,  after 
the  rule  of  the  Church  and  the  Gospels,  after  the  teach- 
ing of  the  Apostles,  after  the  pattern  of  Christ  Himself. 
He  presented  his  forehead  to  the  laver  of  generation  ;  he 
bowed  under  the  sign  of  the  cross ;  he  rose  again  in  new- 
ness of  life,  in  the  assurance  of  a  special  grace  imparted 
by  the  Holy  Spirit  of  God,  by  which  every  moral  stain 
was  purged  away,  and  remission  of  his  sins  had  been 
granted  to  him.  All  this  he  said,  he  promised,  he  im- 
agined, he  felt,  in  the  face  of  the  assembled  believers, 
with  the  full  assurance  of  excommunication  here,  if  he 
should  tail  to  keep  his  vow,  and  of  flnal  perdition  here- 
after. 


176  LECTURE   VIII. 

And  further,  he  acknowledged  that  to  will  and  to  do 
all  these  things  required  not  only  grace  and  strength  im- 
parted at  the  moment,  but  constant  refreshment  and 
renewal  from  a  divine  source  of  strength  and  vigour. 
The  law  and  system  of  his  Church  informed  him  where 
to  look  for  this  support,  and  how  to  secure  it.  The 
Word  of  God  Avas  given  him  to  study,  access  to  God 
was  given  him  in  prayer,  he  might  open  his  heart  to  his 
Maker,  and  receive  Ilim  therein  as  to  a  private  shrine 
and  a  special  sanctuary.  But  no  private  communion 
with  the  Invisible,  no  mystical  union  with  Him,  no  as- 
cetic devotion,  no  seclusion  from  the  world  could  release 
him  from  the  duty  of  using  and  applying  to  his  own 
particular  case  the  public  and  general  means  of  grace  by 
seeking  Christ  in  His  own  temple,  at  His  own  altar,  in 
the  elements  of  an  eucharistic  meal  at  which  His  pres- 
ence was  specially  vouchsafed,  in  the  midst  of  the  con- 
gregation of  believers  like  himself.  The  Christian  then 
believed — and  we  believe  it  now — that  at  such  eucharis- 
tic communions  a  special  virtue  and  grace  were  imparted 
to  the  ftxithful  communicant.  He  believed  in  the  pres- 
ence of  Jesus  Christ  in  His  temple,  upon  His  altar,  in 
the  elements  of  bread  and  wine.  And  even  the  hea- 
then, who  cared  not  perhaps  to  inquire  into  the  idea  of 
the  Christian  mysteries, — who  would  hesitate  no  doubt 
to  accept  the  Christian  rule  and  theory — could  not  fail  to 
see  in  this  belief  thus  publicly  avowed — in  the  vows  of 
holiness  by  which  it  was  accompanied  thus  publicly  rat- 
ified— in  this  sacramental  act  of  faith  and  obedience,  so 


THE  SACEAMENTS  OF  THE  CHURCH.        177 

congenial  to  its  own  spiritual  aspirations,  thus  from  ago 
to  age  continued  and  repeated — an  assurance  that  the  ol)- 
ligations  thereby  imposed  were  not  lightly  undertaken, 
and  would  by  none  be  lightly  disregarded. 

The  sacraments,  then,  of  the  Christian  Church  were 
a  pledge  to  the  heathen  of  the  sincerity  and  trustwor- 
thiness of  the  Christian  votaries.  When  the  heathen  be- 
held or  heard  speak  of  them  he  began  to  know  something 
of  the  men  who  had  turned  the  Avorld  upside  down,  who 
had  put  faith  in  the  place  of  materialism,  hope  in  the 
place  of  desperation,  love  in  the  place  of  selfish  and  sen- 
sual corruption — and  how  they  had  done  so,  and  why 
they  had  done  so.  He  felt,  moreover,  the  assurance  that 
they  would  persevere,  and  continue  to  do  so  more  and 
more  unto  the  end. 

The  core  of  their  whole  system  was  plainly  the 
belief  in  Christ's  personality.  This  it  was  that  gave 
strength,  cohesion,  and  permanence  to  the  whole  fabric 
of  Christian  faith  and  practice.  In  Holy  Scripture  the 
believer  read  of  the  Lord  Jesus  as  the  author  and 
finisher  of  his  faith ;  in  every  office  of  the  Church  he 
recognised  Him  as  the  great  object  of  his  worship ; 
every  sermon  spoke  of  Him,  every  hymn  was  addressed 
to  Him,  every  prayer  was  made  through  Him.  He 
was  the  Way,  and  the  Truth,  and  the  Life.  He  was  a 
perfect  model  of  holy  living ;  a  perfect  example  of  all 
goodness.  The  Christian  could  turn  from  the  abstract 
conception  of  virtue  recommended  by  the  cold  rhetoric 
of  the  philosophers,  to  the  incarnation  of  all  virtue  in 
12 


]7S  LECTUEE  vni. 

the  life  and  practice  of  the  blessed  Jesus.  And  when 
he  was  dazzled  by  such  brilliancy,  when  he  fainted  in 
spirit  at  the  contemplation  of  so  inimitable  a  pattern, 
when  his  head  swam  with  sickness  at  the  thought  of 
his  own  weakness  and  insufficiency,  he  was  invited  to 
come  week  by  week,  day  by  day,  to  the  commemora- 
tion of  the  one  sufficient  sacrifice,  to  the  holy  com- 
munion of  the  faithful  with  one  another,  and  with  Him 
of  whom  they  all  spiritually  partook  and  were  strength- 
ened. In  their  hearts  this  Jesus  the  Redeemer,  with 
His  Spirit  the  Sanctifier,  was  gloriously  enthroned. 
They  acknowledged  by  this  act  of  obedience  the  king- 
ship and  rule  which  He  exercised  over  them.  They 
believed  that  He  had  all  authority  over  men's  souls 
given  to  Him  of  the  Father.  They  called  Him  their 
king,  and  themselves  His  people.  Of  His  kingdom 
there  should  be  no  end :  of  the  glory  which  they 
should  inherit  in  communion  with  Him  in  heaven, 
far  above  all  the  powers  and  principalities  of  the 
Grentile  world,  there  should  be  no  limit  in  time  or 
eternity, — no  defect  in  its  circle,  no  shadow  on  its 
brightness. 

They  knew,  and  therefore  they  believed.  They  did 
not  need  the  upsetting  of  the  domination  of  the  world  to 
convince  them  of  their  future  rule  and  glory  with  Him. 
To  the  last  moment, — to  the  day  of  the  battle  of  the 
Milvian  bridge  and  the  whelming  of  their  last  persecutor 
in  the  waters, — to  the  eve  of  the  Decree  of  Milan,  and  the 
establishment  of  their  Church  in  security  and  honour, — 


COMlVroNION   "WITH   GOD.  179 

they  dreamt  not  of  the  fall  of  the  heathen  empire  npoii 
earth ;  and  wlien  it  came,  their  first  thought  was  that 
the  frame  of  human  society  was  loosened,  and  about  to 
fall  utterly  in  pieces.  To  the  last  they  expected  no  con- 
version of  Cffisar  unto  Christ ;  no  setting  up  of  a  Chris- 
tian emperor  over  the  nations  of  the  world.  '  God,'  said 
Tertullian,  'would  long  since  have  converted  Csesar  to 
His  faith,  if  the  world  could  have  existed  without  the 
Caesar,  or  Christians  could  have  been  Caesars  them- 
selves.' '  The  heathens  themselves  were  not  more  perplexed 
by  the  conversion  of  Constantino  than  the  Christians. 
The  Church  was  taken  by  surprise, — it  was  put  out  in 
its  calculations, — confined  in  its  prospects, — baffled,  I 
believe,  in  some  of  its  dearest  and  most  sj)iritual  anti- 
cipations. This  event  threw  back  the  near-expected 
millennium  into  the  illimitable  future.  The  political 
establishment  of  the  Church  of  Christ  proved  no  unmixed 
good  to  the  faith  of  Christ ;  and  doubtless  there  were 
many  good  Christians  who  regarded  it  with  pious  appre- 
hension. So  far  were  the  believers  from  wilfully  setting 
up  another  Caesar  in  Jesus. 

Nevertheless  the  time  had  come  for  the  public  con- 
fession in  the  world  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  whom 
Pilate  had  crucified.  God's  designs  were  to  be 
accomplished,  and  His  ways  are  not  as  our  ways,  nor 
can  His  ends  be  measured  by  our  notions  of  expediency 
or  fitness.  The  confession  of  Christ's  spiritual  kingship 
was  to  be  extended  to  the  aclcnowledgment  of  His  pre 

■Tertullian,  Apol.  c.  21. 


180  LECTURE  vni. 

eminence  over  the  kings  iind  rulers  of  tliis  world  also. 
The  believers  had  passed  from  city  to  citj,  preach- 
ing the  eternal  kingdom  of  the  anointed  Son  of  God, 
They  had  been  misunderstood,  slandered,  persecuted; 
they  had  been  accused  of  turning  the  world  upside 
down,  with  all  its  political  combinations;  of  rejecting 
the  laws  of  the  empire,  and  setting  up  another  ruler  in 
tlie  place  of  CaBsar ;  while  in  fact  the  vital  principle  of 
their  faith  had  resided  in  the  steadfastness  with  which 
they  clung  to  a  purely  spiritual  idea,  and  shrank  from 
mingling  it  with  any  temporal  alloy.  This  self-denial, 
this  simplicity  of  purpose,  had  now  reaped  its  reward. 
The  graces  of  the  Christian  had  shone  brighter  from 
the  effort.  The  slanders  of  the  heathen  had  been 
converted  into  actual  truth.  At  the  meeting  of  the 
fathers  of  the  church  at  IsTicsea  the  heathen  were  for  the 
first  time  solemnly  invited  to  see  the  men  who  had 
thus  turned  the  world  upside  down,  and  had  set  up  by 
the  hands  of  their  champion  Constantine  another  law, 
another  rule,  a  new  order  of  political  life.  We  have 
traced  through  various  channels  the  preparation  for  the 
Gospel  which  had  been  long  in  progress  in  the  minds 
of  the  heathen :  the  disruption  of  their  old  creeds 
and  intellectual  bonds — the  extinction  of  their  familiar 
prejudices — the  awakening  of  many  new  moral  senses, 
the  sense  of  spiritual  equality,  the  sense  of  sin,  of  a 
need  for  a  Redeemer,  of  a  fearful  and  desperate  appre- 
hension of  theu'  lost  and  hapless  condition.  Again  we  have 
seen  how  the  dogmas  of  the  Christian  creed,  now  at  last 


FESTAL   INVITATION   TO   THE    HEATHENS.  181 

discovered  to  them,  miglit  precisely  meet  the  demands 
of  the  latest  heathen  speculation;  and  to-day  we  have 
observed,  still  further,  how  the  character  of  the  Christian 
life  and  conduct  might  reassure  them  in  their  last  mo- 
ments of  hesitation,  and  complete  the  golden  proof  of 
the  descent  of  Christianity  from  God.  Thus  they  were 
prepared  on  all  sides.  Gently  the  Holy  Spirit  had  trained 
and  manipulated  them,  and  they  stood  like  spirits  impris- 
oned waiting  for  the  word  of  God  to  set  them  fi-ee.  A 
word,  a  touch,  an  invisible  impulse,  a  breath  of  sympathy 
from  the  source  of  life  everlasting,  might  kindle  their 
imaginations  as  with  fire,  and  set  their  hearts  aglow  with 
holy  flame.  And  the  awful  suspense  of  that  central 
moment,  the  solemn  issues  pending,  the  suddenness  with 
which  the  blessed  movement  should  be  at  last  communi- 
cated, and  the  confession  of  Christ  imperiously  extorted 
— the  final  triumph  of  faith  over  the  sluggish  scruples  of 
the  understanding — all  this  is  indicated  to  my  mind  by  a 
striking  incident  recorded  at  the  time,  by  a  story  of  indi- 
vidual conversion  which  betokens,  as  it  were,  in  a  single 
typical  instance,  the  operation  of  the  Holy  Spirit  difi'used 
at  one  moment  in  the  hearts  of  millions. 

'  Hearken  to  me,  O  philosopher,'  said  a  Christian 
divine  to  one  who  hovered,  wondering  and  perplexed, 
about  the  footsteps  of  the  fathers  as  they  marched  trium- 
phantly to  the  council ;  '  hearken  in  the  name  of  Jesus 
Christ.  There  is  one  only  God,  Creator  of  the  heavens 
and  the  earth,  and  of  all  things  visible  and  invisible. 
He  has  made  everything  by  the  power  of  His  Word. 


•182  LECTURE    VIII. 

and  established  all  by  the  sanctity  of  His  Spirit.  This 
Word  is  He  whom  we  call  the  Son  of  God  ;  who  taking 
pity  on  the  errors  of  men,  and  their  way  of  life,  like  that 
of  the  beasts  which  perish,  has  deigned  to  be  born  of 
a  woman,  to  dwell  among  ns,  and  to  die  for  us.  He 
will  come  again  as  a  Judge  of  all  their  deeds  upon  earth, 
as  a  Punisher  and  a  Eewarder.  Behold  simply  the  sum 
of  our  belief.  Seek  not  with  pain  and  anxiety  for  the 
proof  of  things  which  faith  only  can  realize,  nor  for 
the  reason  of  their  existence.  Say  only.  Wilt  thou  be- 
lieve ?  The  philosopher  trembled  and  stammered,  "  I 
believe." ' ' 

And  so  it  was  with  the  heathens  generally.  The 
case  of  this  individual  inquirer  is  a  type  of  the  heathen 
society,  gasping  for  spiritual  life.  In  this  story  we  read, 
as  in  a  myth,  the  conversion  of  the  Koman  Empire. 
Argument  and  conjecture,  testimony  and  proof,  had 
been  accumulated  from  generation  to  generation;  the 
decision  of  mankind  was  trembling  in  the  balance.  Then 
came  the  last  touching  appeal  to  the  court  of  final  resort, 
to  the  heart,  to  the  source  of  all  spiritual  faith.  God 
was  in  it ;  the  world  believed ;  the  Koman  Empire  was 
converted. 

!N'or  is  the  history  of  this  splendid  conversion  with- 
out its  application  to  om'selves.  It  is,  as  I  have  shown, 
on  a  grand  and  general  scale,  the  history  of  many  an  in- 
dividual conversion.  It  shows  how  God  even  now  works 
on  the  heart  of  the  natural  man ;  for  every  man  is  l)y 
'  See  Note  K  K. 


CONVEESION   OF   THE   EMPIRE.  183 

nature  a  heathen.  Every  man  has  his  innate  pride,  In's 
fancied  claims  upon  God,  his  complacent  self-reliance  in 
spiritual  things ;  every  man  fashions  a  God  or  Idol  of 
his  own,  after  his  own  heart,  and  adapted  to  his  own 
conceit.  Every  man  lias  an  inveterate  hankering  after 
material  things,  and  rises  with  pain  and  weariness  to  the 
conception  of  the  spiritual ;  can  hardly  retain  his  hold 
of  it,  if  he  has  in  any  wise  attained  to  it.  But  let  fear 
or  son'ow  awaken  the  sense  of  sin  in  him,  a  sense  by 
God's  mercy  not  difficult  to  awaken  in  most  men,  and 
the  whole  man  is  changed.  Alarm  and  agony  take  pos- 
session of  him,  he  will  do  anything,  he  imagines  anything, 
that  may  seem  to  offer  a  prospect  of  salvation.  He 
rushes  to  the  extreme  of  superstition  and  fanaticism,  to 
wild  and  gloomy  practices,  to  magical  arts,  to  purifica- 
tions by  blood,  to  self-torture  and  immolation.  To  re- 
store the  balance  of  his  mind  he  requires  the  stay  of  pure 
and  simple  doctrine ; — a  knowledge  of  God  and  of  the 
true  means  of  grace  in  Him,  founded  upon  a  historical 
basis;  something  firm  to  grasp,  stable  to  rest  upon, 
something  to  fill  the  heart,  to  feed  the  imagination,  to 
satisfy  the  understanding.  He  wants  something  that  he 
can  feel,  and  at  the  same  time  something  that  he  can 
reason  about.  Christianity  offers  him  an  exernise  for  the 
moral,  tlie  intellectual,  and  the  spiritual  faculty.  It  is 
abundant  in  consolation,  fruitful  in  argument,  overflow- 
ing in  its  apprehension  of  the  divine.  It  is  w^hat  every 
tender  and  pious  soul  would  wish  to  make  its  own  by 
believing.     Then  let  him  finally  trace  it  in  its  results. 


184  LECTURE  vra. 

Let  him  examine  wliat  it  lias  effected  on  tlie  souls  of 
men,  as  far  as  his  vision  can  penetrate,  and  this  is  but 
skin  deep ;  what  it  is  now  doing ;  what  it  promises  to 
do  in  him  and  in  all  men  ;  what  love,  what  holiness, 
what  resignation,  what  hope  it  produces  !  The  lives  of 
Christians  have  been  ever  the  last  and  surest  argument 
for  Christianity.  This  completed  the  conversion  of  the 
Empire  :  this  completes  day  by  day  the  conversion  of 
the  worldling  and  the  sinner.  It  defies  criticism ;  it  tran- 
scends philosophy.  It  leads  direct  to  the  throne  of  God, 
to  the  source  of  all  moral  goodness  and  holiness,  and 
reveals  the  object  of  our  faith,  the  Author  of  every  good 
and  perfect  gift,  in  whose  image  we  are  made,  in  whose 
righteousness  we  trust  hereafter  to  be  clothed.  Faith  in 
Him,  thus  revealed  to  the  imagination,  will  calm  the 
last  fluttering  tumult  of  the  soul,  and  rock  us  asleep  in 
the  bosom  of  our  Redeemer.  And  such  is  the  blessed 
end- to  which  the  sacred  record  leads  us,  in  words  which 
l)reathe  a  strain  of  heavenly  music,  wafted  onward  from 
age  to  age,  from  generation  to  generation :  '  But  ye,  be- 
loved, building  up  yourselves  on  your  most  holy  faith, 
praying  to  the  Holy  Ghost,  keep  yourselves  in  the  love 
of  God,  looking  for  the  mercy  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
unto  eternal  life.' ' 

^  Jude  20,  21. 


]^  0  TJEJS. 


I^  O  T  E  S  . 


Note  A,  p.  27. 

The  language  used  by  Caesar,  Cato,  and  Cicero,  in  the  debate 
on  the  punishment  of  the  Catilinarian  conspirators,  has  drawn 
the  marked  attention  of  inquirers  into  the  religious  opinions  of 
the  ancients.  Among  others,  Warburton  made  great  use  of  it  to 
enforce  his  opinion  that  the  students  of  heathen  philosophy  were 
universally  disbelievers  in  a  future  state  of  retribution,  although 
from  prudential  motives,  legislators  and  statesmen  generally  com- 
bined to  ujDhold  one.  More  recently,  Lord  Brougham,  in  his 
'Discourse  on  Natural  Theology,'  referred  to  it  in  discussing 
Warburton's  views  on  the  general  question,  and  elicited  a  shrewd 
and  accurate  review  of  the  debate  before  us  from  Dr.  Turton.  '  I 
will  state,'  says  the  last-named  writer,  '  as  briefly  as  possible,  the 
circumstances  of  the  case.  The  question  projiosed  to  the  senate 
was,  "  "What  should  be  done,  with  regard  to  those  of  the  agents 
in  Catiline's  conspiracy,  who  were  in  custody  ? "  Julius  Silanus, 
as  consul  elect,  spoke  first,  and  was  of  opinion  that  they  should 
be  put  to  death.  Caesar,  who,  it  will  be  recollected,  was  an  Epi- 
curean, dwelt  upon  their  deeds  as  crimes  to  which  no  sufferings 
that  could  be  devised  would  be  adequate ;  represented  death  as, 
in  cases  of  grief  and  wretchedness,  the  tennination  of  sorrows,  not 
the  exacerbation — all  the  ills  of  life  being  dissipated  by  that 


188  NOTES. 

event,  beyond  Vi^liich  there  "was  neither  trouble  nor  joy;  and  re- 
commended the  severest  iDunishment  that  was  consistent  with  the 
continuance  of  life. 

["  Equidcm  sic  existumo,  Patres  conscript!,  omnes  cruciatus  minores 
quam  facinora  illorum  esse:  .  .  .  Do  poena  possumus  equidem  dicere 
id  quod  res  habet :  in  luctu  atque  miscriis  mortem  £erumnarum  requiem  non 
cruciatum  esse :  cam  cuncta  mortalium  mala  dissolvcre :  ultra  neque  cuiw 
neque  gaudii  locum  esse." — Salbtsf,  Bell.  Catil.  c.  51.] 

'  Cato,  a  Stoic — in  a  speech  also  given  by  Sallust — mentioned, 
with  commendation  of  the  manner  and  no  dislike  of  the  matter, 
Caesar's  dissertation  on  life  and  death ;  slightly  observing  that  he 
supj)osed  Cajsar  to  consider  as  false  the  things  that  were  reported 
of  the  infernal  regions ;  namely,  the  separation  of  the  good  from 
the  bad,  who  were  consigned  to  places  abounding  in  every  thing 
disagreeable  and  horrible. 

["  Bene  et  composite  C.  Caesar  paulo  ante  in  hoc  ordine  do  vita  et  mortc 
disseruit ;  falsa,  credo,  existumans,  quse  de  inferis  memorantur ;  diverso  iti- 
nera malos  a  bonis  loca  tctra,  inculta,  fceda  atque  formidolosa  habere  "  {Sal- 
hist,  c.  52).  I  trace  the  irony  of  the  speaker  in  the  words,  "  bene  et  com- 
posite," still  more  in  the  parenthetic  "  credo."  Plutarch  supplies  other  in- 
stances of  what  I  have  called  Cato's  humour.  See  in  the  Life  chapters  1 2, 
21,  24,  and  4G.] 

'  So  far  we  have  depended  upon  the  authority  of  Sallust,  and 
notwithstanding  the  "  Sallustian  style "  [Broiiglia'm''s  Discourse, 
p.  286]  in  which  he  has  reported  the  speeches  of  Caesar  and  of 
Cato,  there  is  ample  reason  to  believe  that  he  has  accurately  given 
the  substance  of  what  was  spoken.  Let  us  now  turn  to  the  ora- 
tions of  Cicero,  and  sec  what  information  can  be  gathered  from 
that  great  master  of  the  academic  school,  in  his  own  style.  In 
the  course  of  his  address  he  mentions  the  two  opinions  which  had 


NOTES.  189 

been  delivered :  the  one  enforcing  death,  the  other  the  severest 
punishment  in  this  life :  the  former,  as  demanded  by  the  danger 
to  which  the  Roman  people  had  been  exposed ;  the  latter,  as  being 
more  efficacious  than  death,  which  was  not  ordained  for  punish- 
ment at  all.  He  goes  on  to  describe  Caesar's  plan,  as  subjecting 
those  miscreants  to  chains  and  imprisonment  and  poverty  and  de- 
spair, as  leaving  them  nothing  but  life — which  being  taken  away, 
they  would  be  freed  from  the  punishment  of  their  wickedness. 
So  that,  by  way  of  terror  to  the  evil,  the  ancients  were  of  oijiniou 
that  some  punishments  should  be  assigned  to  the  impious  in  the 
infernal  regions,  conceiving  that,  without  such  punishments,  death 
would  not  be  an  object  of  dread. 

["Video  duas  adhuc  esse  seatentias:  unam  D.  Silani,  qui  censet,  eos, 
qui  hsec  delere  conati  sunt,  morte  esse  multandos :  alteram  C.  Csesaris,  qui 
mortis  poenam  removet,  cseterorum  suppliciorum  omnes  acerbitates  amplec- 
titur.  .  .  Alter  eos,  qui  nos  omnes,  qui  populum  Romanum  vita  privare 
conati  sunt,  qui  delere  imperium,  qui  populi  Komaui  nomen  exstinguere, 
punctum  temporis  frui  vita  et  hoc  communi  spiritu  non  putat  oportere.  .  . 
Alter  intelligit  mortem  a  Dis  immortalibus  non  esse  supplicii  causa  constitu- 
tara ;  scd  aut  necessitatem  naturae,  aut  laborum  ac  miseriarum  quietem  esse. 
.  .  .  Itaquc  ut  aliqua  in  vita  formido  improbis  esset  posita,  apud  inferos 
ejusmodi  quaedam  illi  antiqui  supplicia  impiis  constituta  esse  voluerunt,  quod, 
videlicet,  intelligebant,  his  remotis,  non  esse  mortem  ipsam  pertimescen- 
dam." — Cicero  in  Catil.  iv.  4.  5.] 

'  We  see,  then,  how  completely  Sallust's  account  of  the  debate 
is  confirmed  by  Cicero's  oration,  as  preserved  in  his  own  works. 
.  .  .  We  see,  also,  with  what  indifference  the  avowal  of  Caesar's 
Epicurean  disbelief  of  a  future  retribution  was  treated  in  the  Eo- 
man  Senate.  Considered  simply  as  a  matter  of  religion,  it  seems 
not  to  have  been  deemed  worthy  of  a  remark,'  &c.  &c. — Turton, 
Natural  Theology  considered,  &c.,  1836,  p.  320,  fol. 

Plutarch,  I  may  add,  in  stating  the  conflicting  opinion  of 


190  NOTES. 

Cffisar  aud  Cato,  and  mentioning  the  curious  fact  that  Cicero  bad  • 
provided  means  of  having  Gate's  speecli  taken  down  by  reporters 
for  dispersion  among  the  citizens,  makes  no  reference  to  the  relig- 
ious bearing  of  their  arguments.  This  may  tend  to  show  the  in- 
difference of  the  audience  to  the  expression  of  sceptical  views  on 
sucb  subjects,  but  it  can  by  no  means  invalidate  the  substantial 
correctness  of  Sallust's  report,  confirmed  as  it  is  by  the  comment 
of  Cicero  himself  Sallust  was  about  twenty-three  at  this  period, 
and  bad  not  yet  apparently  entered  upon  his  public  career  or  at- 
tained a  seat  in  the  Seaate ;  but  be  was  a  party  man,  intimate 
with  the  iDublic  characters  of  the  day,  and  an  adherent  of  Coesar's. 
Csesar  and  Sallust,  it  may  be  said,  were  of  the  party  of  progress, 
and  it  was  their  policy,  as  well  as  their  temper,  to  unsettle  the 
foundations  of  national  prejudice  and  usage :  but  at  the  same 
time,  it  will  be  remembered,  Lucretius,  the  friend  of  Memmius, 
the  client  and  poet  of  the  nobility,  flung  into  the  world  bis  daring 
manifesto  of  unbelief,  a  work  wbicb  marks  in  itself  an  era  in  the 
IDrogress  of  free  thought  and  expression  among  the  Romans.  The 
entire  denial  of  a  Deity,  a  Providence,  a  spiritual  nature  in  man, 
or  a  moral  jjurijose  in  creation,  in  the  rhapsody  '  De  Rerum  Na- 
tura,'  is  exactly  analogous  to  Caesar's  declaration  against  a  future 
retribution  ;  while  the  strange  inconsistency  of  the  poet's  address 
to  Venus,  the  Mother  of  the  Romans,  the  Delight  of  gods  and 
men,  the  favourite  of  Mars,  the  divine  source  of  life,  is  not  less 
analogous  to  the  inconsistent  position  assumed  by  Ctesar  as  a 
materialist  in  philosophy  and  a  minister  of  religion.  I  shall  have 
occasion  to  say  more,  in  subsequent  lectures,  of  the  opinions  of  the 
heathen  at  Rome  on  the  subject  of  Divine  retribution.  Here  I 
wisb  chiefly  to  point  out  the  licence  of  speech  aud  thought  re- 
garding it,  and  the  indificrence  with  which  sceptical  views  on  the 
subject  of  a  future  life  would  be  regarded  at  least  by  the  upper 
classes  of  the  Empire. 


NOTES.  191 

Note  B,  i)age  35. 

The  j)rincipal  texts  referred  to  occur  in  the  Life  of  Constan- 
tino by  Eusebius  Pamphilus  (iii.  7),  and  tlie  ecclesiastical  histories 
of  the  same  Eusebius,  of  Socrates  (i.  11),  of  Sozomen  (i.  18),  of 
Rufinus,  and  Theodoret.  I  have  borrowed  from  De  Broglie's 
vivid  grouping  of  the  council  in  his  VEglise  et  VEmpire  Bomaiii 
(ch.  iv.). 

It  should  be  remarked  that  the  object  of  the  Council  of  Nicaea, 
in  regard  to  the  settling  of  dogma,  was  not  to  establish,  as  is 
sometimes  loosely  said,  the  doctrine  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  but  to 
determine  the  position  of  the  Divine  Son  in  the  scheme  of  revela- 
tion. The  actual  symbol  subscribed  at  Nicaea,  after  asserting  the 
various  articles  of  our  '  Nicene  Creed,'  as  far  as  relates  to  the 
Father  and  the  Son,  terminates  with  a  single  additional  article : 
'  I  believe  in  the  Holy  Ghost.'  The  articles  which  define  the  char- 
acter and  fimctions  of  the  third  person  in  the  Trinity,  and  those 
which  follow  to  the  end  of  our  received  formula,  were  added  tow- 
ards the  end  of  the  century  at  the  Council  of  Constantinople, 
A.  D.  381 ;  but,  as  forming  the  accredited  complement  of  the  Creed 
of  Nicaea,  and  popularly  considered  as  included  in  it,  I  have  not 
hesitated  to  cite  them  also  as  a  substantive  jDortion  of  the  symbol 
in  question.  They  serve  to  complete  and  bring  out  in  strong  re- 
lief the  contrast  to  which  I  point  between  the  scepticism  of  the 
Pagan  and  the  dogmatism  of  the  Christian  assembly. 

The  text  of  the  creed,  as  authorized  at  Nicaea,  is  given  by 
Socrates,  Hist.  Eccl.  i.  8 : — 

"■TltcTevonev  elq  eva  debv* TratEpa  TravToapdropa,  TravTuv  oparuv  re  nal 
aopdruv  TcoiTjTfjv. 

'  Kal  elg  eva  Kvpcov  'Irjaovv  Xpicrdv,  tov  vlbv  tov  deov  •  yevvTjdtvTa  ek 
Tov  Trarpog  fiovoyevij  •  tovt'  ectiv,  ek.  rf/c  omlac  tov  narpbg,  Oeov  kn  6eov  koL 
ipbii  ek  ^ToCy  debv  ahjdivbv  ek  6eov  (iXtjOivov  •  -yevvydivTa  ov  TrocT/OevTa, 
ouoo'vGcov  Tu  Tzarpi  •  6i'  ov  to.  navra  h/ivETo,  ~d  te  iv  rCi  ovpavCi  koI  ~a  H 


192  NOTES. 

ry  yy,     AC  yiiag  Tovg  avOpuizovQ  nal  6ia  ttjv  ^/leripav  auTrjpiav  KaTe?jd6vTa, 
Koi  oapKudevra^   koc  hvavdpuizrjaavTa  •    Traddvra,  Kal  avaaravra  ry   TplTij 
Tjuipq.^  avz7MvTa  z'lq  rovq  ovpavovg,  ipx^fievov  Kpivat  ^uvrac  Kai  VEKpovg. 
'  Kal  elg  to  dycov  ■Kvevjia.'' 

To  which  was  appended  an  explanatory  statement,  concluding 
with  an  anathema  : — 

'  TovQ  6i  T^yovrac,  on  ijv  nore  ore  ovk  rp>  •  koi  irplv  yewTjOf/vai  ovk  ipi  •  Kal 
bri  E^  OVK  bvTUV  iyevETO  •  ij  i^  hspaQ  vTzoaTaaEug  i)  ovmac  (pdaKOvrac  slvar  ^ 
UTiarbv,  rj  rpETrrbv,  fj  cM^.oiutov  tov  vlbv  tov  Oeov  •  avadE/iari^Ei  fi  dyi  a 
KaOoTiiKf/  Kal  aTTooToTiiKtj  EKK^.Tjaia.'' 


Note  C,  page  41. 

I  distinguish  here  between  the  concej)tion  of  a  Future  State, 
as  pretended  to  be  revealed  in  the  ancient  mythology,  and  such 
as  the  philosophers  might  represent  to  themselves  from  the  light 
of  reason  or  imagination.  Undoubtedly  the  common  sentiment 
of  mankind  demands  a  belief  in  a  future  Retribution,  and  such 
we  find  to  have  been  the  teaching  of  the  earliest  mythological 
systems  of  Paganism.  Such  a  belief  is  implied  rei)eatedly  in  cas- 
ual expressions  of  Homer,  and  is  more  positively  declared  in  his 
descriiDtion  of  Elysium  and  Tartarus.  Nevertheless,  when  he  sets 
himself  deliberately  to  give  an  account  of  the  infernal  regions, 
his  views  become  at  once  confused,  and  his  picture  of  the  state 
of  the  blessed  is  little  less  gloomy  than  that  of  the  punishment 
of  the  wicked.  This  gloom  is  evidently  a  reflection  of  his  own 
perplexity,  and  the  painful  feelings  it  naturally  produced.  As 
long  as  the  Pagans  could  refrain  from  thinking  on  this  subject, 
they  might  acquiesce  implicitly  in  the  mythological  teaching ;  but 
this  otiose  assent  vanished  immediately  when  they  began  to  re- 
flect, and  to  draw  logical  inferences  from  the  l^are  outlines  of  their 


NOTES.  193 

traditicnal  creed.  The  poets,  to  whom  the  fantastic  stories  of  the 
popular  religion  furnished  inexhaustible  attractions,  continued 
long  to  foster  this  unreflecting  belief  or  acquiescence,  and  the 
common  language  of  the  people  would  still  longer  retain  the  tone 
of  ages  of  a  more  real  faith ;  but  the  philosophers  meanwhile  dis- 
carded without  reserve  the  fables  of  the  ancient  mythology,  and 
generally  lost  their  grasp  altogether  of  the  idea  which  lay  at  tliv 
bottom  of  them.  The  positive  side  of  their  tenets  on  the  subject 
of  a  future  life  will  l^e  referred  to  in  another  place.  I  believe 
there  will  be  no  question  as  to  the  truth  of  the  statement  in  the 
text  of  the  general  unbelief  of  the  educated  jDcople  in  Greece  and 
Rome.  The  well-known  passage  in  which  Juvenal  is  often  sup- 
posed to  rebuke  the  discredit  into  which  the  mythological  creed 
had  fallen,  seems  to  me,  on  the  contrary,  to  show  that  in  his  view 
and  that  of  the  classes  he  addressed,  not  only  the  ancient  Hades 
was  a  fable,  but  the  ground-idea  of  a  future  retribution  was 
equally  baseless.     See  Sat.  ii.  149 : 

'  Esse  aliquid  manes,  et  subtorranea  regna, 
Et  contum  et  Stygio  ranas  sub  gurgite  nigras, 
Atque  una  trausire  vadum  tot  millia  cjmba, 
Nee  pueri  credunt,  nisi  qui  nondum  sere  lavantur : 
Sed  tu  vera  puta  :  Curius  quid  sentit  et  anibo 
Scipiadas,'  &e. 

'  Puta,'  I  conceive,  both  from  the  common  use  of  the  expres- 
sion, and  from  the  analogy  of  the  writer's  teaching  elsewhere,  can 
only  mean,  '  But  suppose  them  true  ! '  Juvenal  not  only  rejects 
the  superstition  of  the  vulgar,  but  is  at  a  loss  to  refer  to  any  more 
hopeful  ground  from  reason  or  revelation  for  inculcating  a  relig- 
ious belief  in  a  future  retribution  at  all.  Throughout  his  moral 
teaching  he  is  consistent  in  confining  his  views  to  temporal  re- 
wards and  punishments  only. 

'  Dans  les  classes  cultivoes  les  mythes  du  Tartare  ct  de 
13 


1 94  NOTES. 

i'ElysSe  ^talent  traitSs  de  fables  absurdes ;  un  matgrialisrae  gi'os- 
sier  ng  de  rEpicurisme,  ou  bien  une  resignation  orgueilleuse  a 
rangantisseir.cnt  produite  par  le  PanthSisme  stoicien,  parfois  un 
reve  platonicien  ou  plutot  oriental  de  metemiDsycose,  telles  gtaient 
les  croyances  prSdominantes  parmis  les  pa'icns  Cclaii'gs.' — Pres- 
sensS,  Hist,  des  Trois  Premiers  Siecles  de  VEglise  Chretienne,  2e  sSrie, 
i.  111. 

Note  D,  page  43. 

The  ceremony  of  lustrating  the  city  by  a  j)rocession  of  the 
priests  of  the  four  great  colleges  (quatuor  summa  vel  amplissima 
collegia),  namely,  the  Pontifices,  Augures,  Quindecimviri,  and 
Septemviri  or  Epulones,  to  whom,  in  the  Imperial  times,  were 
added  the  Augustales,  occurs  frequently  in  the  early  history  of 
Rome,  on  the  occasion  of  disasters  to  be  expiated  or  averted. 
The  Supplication  was  a  solemnity  of  similar  import,  and  of  still 
more  frequent  occurrence :  in  the  one  the  procession  made  a  cir- 
cuit of  the  space  to  which  the  lustration  or  expiation  was  to  be 
api)lied ;  in  the  other  the  images  of  certain  deities  were  carried 
from  shrine  to  shrine,  with  hymns,  sacrifices,  and  other  fonnalities. 
Both  these  ceremonies  were  resorted  to  under  the  empire,  as  we 
read  in  Tacitus,  Annul,  in.  64  ;  xiii.  24  ;  Hist.  i.  87  ;  iv.  53. 

I  refer  in  the  text  to  a  lustration  of  the  city  which  seems  to 
have  taken  place  in  the  culminating  joeriod  of  Eoman  irreligion, 
on  the  alarm  at  Caesar's  crossing  the  Rubicon.  The  historian,  Ap- 
pian  {Bell.  Civ.  ii.  36),  says  simply :  evxo^-  ^£,  wf  I-ttI  ^o[iepoic,  izpoh 
ypa(j)ovTo.  I  see  no  reason  to  doubt  that  Lucan  follows  a  genuine 
tradition  when  he  paraphrases  this  statement  with  a  rhetorical  de- 
scription of  a  lustration  of  the  city,  such  as  he  may  himself  have 
witnessed  about  a  hundred  years  later,  a.  d.  56,  in  the  reign  of 
Nero.  (Tac.  An7i.  xiii.  24).  '  Urbem  Princeps  lustravit  ex  re- 
sponso  harusj)icum,  quod  Jovis  ac  Minervaj  sedes '  (the  Capitol) 
'  de  ccelo  tactae.'     Lucan's  representation  of  the  ceremony  which 


NOTES.  195 

took  place  on  such  solemn  occasions  is  ample  and  vivid,  Pharsa- 
lia,  i.  593,  foil. 

Mox  jubct  et  totam  pavidis  a  civibus  Urbcm 
Ambiri,  et  festo  purgantes  mcenia  lustro 
Longa  pel'  extremes  pomooria  cingere  fines 
Pontifices,  sacri  quibus  est  permissa  potestas. 
Turba  minor  ritu  sequitur  succincta  Gabiao, 
Vestalemquc  chorum  ducit  vittata  sacerdos, 
Trojanam  soli  cui  fos  vidissc  Minervara. 
Tiun  qui  fata  deum  secretaque  carmina  servant, 
Et  lotam  parvo  revocant  Almone  Cybeben ; 
Et  doctus  volucres  Augur  servare  sinistras ; 
Septtmvirque  epulis  festis,  Titiique  sodales ; 
Et  Salius  la3to  portans  ancilia  coUo ; 
Et  tollens  apieem  goneroso  vertice  Flamen.' 

It  may  be  interesting  to  compare  this  poetic  description  with 
the  prose  narration  of  what  was  doubtless  a  very  similar  solemnity 
by  Tacitus,  Hist.  iv.  53  (a.d.  70). 

'  Curam  restituendi  Capitolii  in  L.  Vestinum  confert.  .  .  , 
Undecimo  calendas  Juuias,  serena  luce,  spatium  omne,  quod  tem- 
plo  dicabatur,  evinctum  vittis  coronisque.  Ingressi  milites,  quis 
fausta  nomina,  felicibus  ramis :  dein  virgines  Vestales,  cum  pueris 
puellisque  patrimis  matrimisque,  aqua  "s-ivis  o  fontibus  amnibusque 
hausta  perluei-e.  Tum  Helvidius  Priscus  praetor,  prseeunte  Plau- 
tio  ^liano  pontifice,  lustrata  suovetaurilibus  area  et  super  cajspi- 
tem  redditis  extis,  Jovem,  Junonem,  Minervam  prresidcsque  impe- 
rii deos  precatus,  uti  ccepta  prosperarent,  sedesque  suas  pietate 
hominum  inchoatas  divina  ope  attollerent,  vittas  quis  ligatus  lapis 
innexique  funes  erant  contigit.  Simul  ceteii  magistratus  et  saccr- 
dotes  et  senatus  et  eques  et  magna  pars  populi,  studio  Isctitiaque 
connixi,  saxum  ingens  traxere ;  passimque  injectse  fundamentis 
argenti  auriquc  stipes,  et  metallorura  primitia;  nullis  fornacibua 
victip,  sed  ut  gignuntur.' 


196  NOTES. 

Note  E,  page  55. 

Lactantius,  Institutionwn  divm.,  vii.  6 : — 

'  Nunc  totam  rationem  brevi  ckcumscriptione  signemus. 
Idcirco  mundus  factus  est,  ut  nascamur  :  ideo  nascimnr,  ut  agnos- 
camus  factorem  naundi  ac  nostri  Deum :  ideo  agnoscimus,  ut  cola- 
mus ;  ideo  colimus,  ut  immortalitatem  pro  laborum  mercede  ca- 
piamus,  quoniam  maximis  laboribus  cultus  Dei  constat :  ideo 
prsemio  immortalitatis  adficimur,  ut  similes  angelis  eflfccti,  summo 
patri  ac  domino  in  perpetuum  serviamus,  et  simus  getemum  Deo 
regnum.  Hsec  summa  remm  est,  hoc  arcanum  Dei,  hoc  mysterium 
mundi,  a  quo  sunt  alieni,  qui,  sequentcs  prsesentem  voluptatem, 
terrestribus  et  fragilibus  se  bonis  addixerunt,  et  animas  ad  cccles- 
tia  genitas  suavitatibus  mortiferis,  tanquam  luto  cocnove  demerse- 
runt.  Qua?ramus  nunc  vicissim,  an  in  cultu  Deorum  ratio  ulla 
subsistat :  qui  si  multi  sunt,  si  ideo  tantum  ab  hominibus  colun- 
tur,  ut  prajstent  illis  opes,  victorias,  lionores,  quoeque  alia  non  nisi 
ad  pra;sens  valent ;  si  sine  causa  gignimur ;  si  in  liominibus  pro- 
creandis  providentia  nulla  versatur ;  si  casu  nobismetipsis  ac  vo- 
luptatis  nostrcc  gratia  nascimur;  si  nihil  post  mortem  sumus:  quid 
potest  esse  tam  supervacuum,  tarn  inane,  tam  vanum,  quam  hu 
mana  res,  et  quam  mundus  ipse ; — qui,  quum  sit  incredibili  mag- 
nitudine,  tam  mirabili  ratione  constructus,  tamen  rebus  ineptis 
vacet  ?  Cur  enim  veutorum  spiritus  citeut  nubes,  cur  emiceut 
fulgura,  tonitrua  mugiaut,  imbrcs  cadant,  ut  frugcs  terra  produ- 
cat,  ut  varies  foetus  alat :  cur  denique  omnis  natura  rerum  laborct, 
ne  quid  desit  earum  rerum,  quibus  vita  hominis  sustinetur,  si  est 
inanis,  si  ad  nihilum  interimus,  si  nihil  est  in  nobis  majoris  emolu- 
menti  Deo  ?  Quod  si  est  dictu  ncfas,  ncc  putandum  est  fieri  jjosse, 
ut  non  ob  aliquam  maximam  rationem  fucrit  constitutum  quod 
videas  maxima  ratione  constare  ;  qute  potest  esse  ratio  in  his  er- 
roribus  pravarum  religionum,  et  in  hac  persuasione  pliilosoj)ho- 
rum,  qua  putant  animas  interirc  ?     Profecto  nulla.' 


NOTES.  197 

Note  F,  Page  59. 

M.  Denis,  in  his  Ilistoire  dcs  Theories  et  IdScs  Morales  dans  VAn- 
tiquite  (i.  p.  149),  thus  describes  the  spiritual  deity  conceived  by 
Plato  :— 

(1.)  *Au-dcssus  du  mondc  sensible,  I'esprit  conceit  n6cessaii-e- 
ment  im  autre  monde,  celui  des  intelligibles  ou  des  IdSes,  et  au 
sommet  du  monde  des  IdScs  brille  d'une  ^ternelle  splendure  I'ld^e 
du  bien,  d'oii  toutes  Ics  autres  gmanent.  Le  bien,  dit  Platon,  est 
fort  au-dessus  de  I'essence  en  perfection  et  en  dignitg  ;  le  bien  n'est 
point  la  T^ritg  ni  I'intelligence :  il  en  est  le  jj^re.  De  meme  que 
le  soleil,  qui  est  I'image  visible  du  bien,  rfegne  sur  ce  monde  qu'il 
^claire  ct  qu'il  vivifie :  de  meme  le  bien,  dont  le  soleil  n'est  que 
I'ouvrage,  r^gne  sur  le  monde  intelligible,  qu'il  enfante  en  vertu  de 
son  inepuisable  fgconditS.  Le  bien,  c'est  Dieu  meme  dans  ce  qu'il 
a  de  i)lus  essentiel.  C'est  vers  cette  perfection  souveraine  que  la 
raison  s'^lance ;  c'est  a,  cette  beautg  infinie  que  I'amour  aspire. 
"  Bcautg  merveilleuse,"  s'ecrie  Platon,  "  beautS  ^tcraelle,  incrgge, 

imperissable,  exempte  d'accroissement  et  de  diminution ; 

beauts  qui  n'a  rien  de  sensible,  ni  de  coi*porel,  comme  des  mains 
oa  un  visage ;  qui  ne  reside  j)as  dans  un  etre  different  d'clle-meme, 
dans  la  tcrre,  dans  le  eiel,  ou  dans  toute  autre  chose,  mais  qui  ex- 
iste  Sternellement  et  absolument  en  elle-m^me  et  par  elle-mfime ; 
beauts  de  laquclle  toutes  les  autres  beautSs  participent,  sans  que 
lem*  naissance  ou  leur  destruction  lui  apporte  la  moindre  diminu- 
tion ou  le  moindre  accroissement,  et  la  modifie  en  quoi  que  ccj 
soit,"  &c.  Comj)are  among  many  other  passages  C'oiivivium,  p. 
211 ;  Timmis,  28,  29,  30,  37. 

(2.)  Of  God's  Providence.  Denis,  p.  150  :— '  Si  telle  est  la  na- 
ture de  Dieu,  on  peut  juger  de  son  action  sur  I'univers.  C'est  lui 
qui  a  f\iit  ce  bel  ordre  visible  que  nous  appelons  le  monde.  .  .  . 
II  I'a  done  fait  selon  son  intelligence  et  selon  sa  bonte ;  I'ojil  tou 
jours  fixe  sur  Ics  idees  ou  sur  le  module  etcrnel  et  immuable,  il  a 


198  NOTES. 

partout  introduit  I'ordre,  la  mesure.  le  noiubre  et  I'harmonie.  .  . 
Si  Dieu  conserve,  souticnt  et  gouverue  ce  monde,  peut-on  croire 
qu'il  ue  s'inqui^te  pas  de  la  partie  la  plus  divine  de  son  ouvrage, 
de  celle  qui  certainemeut  vient  de  lui  quant  a  sa  substance,  lors 
meme  que  tout  le  reste  ne  viendrait  pas  ?  Non.  .  .  .  Sage 
simplemcnt  par  rapjsort  aux  objets  sensibles,  Dieu  est  juste  par 
rapport  aux  esprits.  Nous  avons  dSja  vu  comment  il  est  le  prin- 
cipe  de  la  justice  est  de  la  loi.  Mais  se  pourrait-il  qu'il  negligcat 
coux  qui  se  conforment  a  ses  decrets  6ternels,  et  qui,  en  ob6issant  a 
la  justice,  sVfforcent  de  lui  ressembler?  Quiconque  est  juste  doit 
ctrc  lieurcux,  .  .  .  mais  en  voyant  des  hommes  violents  et  impies 
s'glevcr  de  la  plus  basse  condition  jusqu'aux  plus  Lautcs  dignitfjs 
et  inSme  jusqu'tl  la  tyrannic,  ne  voulaut  pas  accuser  Dieu  de  ces 
d^sordres,  nous  en  vcnons  a  penscr  qu'a  la  vSritS  Dieu  existe,  mais 
qu'il  dedaigne  de  s'occupcr  des  affaires  liumaines.  Les  apparencet^ 
nous  degoivent,  et  nous  ne  voyons  pas  quel  terrible  tribut  ces 
hommes  lieurcux  doivent  un  jour  payer  a  I'ordre  general.' — Plato, 
Leges^  p.  71G;  comp.  pp.  889,  S06  ;  Meno,  pp.  99,  100. 

(3.)  Plato  seems  to  have  augured  the  possibility  of  a  future 
state  of  retribution,  rather  than  to  have  insisted  on  it  as  a  certain 
or  ijrobable  fact.  When  he  says,  as  in  the  'Laws,'  p.  71G,  that 
divine  justice  always  follows  those  who  fall  short  of  the  divine 
law,  he  may  regard  jjunishments  in  this,  life  rather  than  in  an- 
other. The  use  he  makes  of  the  mythological  fables  of  Elysium 
and  Tartarus  seems  to  imply  a  consciousness  that  he  could  not  ap- 
peal to  the  reason  of  mankind  on  the  sulvjcct,  and  must  content 
himself  wdth  working  on  their  feelings. 

'  Quoi  qu'il  en  soit,'  says  M.  Denis,  p.  ICO,  'il  est  evident  que 
I'immortalite  de  I'amc  est  necessaire  ti  sa  morale.  Aussi  ses  dia- 
logues sont-ils  pleins  d'allusions  aux  biens  et  aux  maux  que  la 
justice  de  Dieu  reserve  a  nos  vertus  ou  a  nos  vices.  "  Lorsque 
I'ume,"  dit-il  dans  les  '  Lois,'  "  a  fait  des  progrtis  marques,  soit 
dans  le  bien,  soit  dans  le  mal,  par  unc  volonte  ferme  et  soutenue; 


NOTES.  190 

SI  c'cst  dans  le  bicn  ct  qu'elle  se  soit  attachCc  a  la  divine  vcrUi 
jusqu'a  en  devenir  divine  comme  ellc,  alors  die  repoit  de  grandes 
distinctions,  ct  du  lieu  qu'elle  occupe,  ellc  passe  dans  une  autre 
demcure  toute  sainte  et  bienlieureuse  ;  si  ellc  a  vScu  clans  le  vice, 
oUc  va  liabitcr  une  demeure  conforme  ii  son  Stat.  Ni  toi,  ni  qui 
que  ce  soit,  ne  pourra  jamais  se  vanter  de  s'etre  soustrait  a  cct 
ordre  fait  pour  gtre  observe  plus  inviolablement  qu'aucun  autre,  et 
qu'il  faut  infinimcnt  respecter.  Tu  nc  lui  ecbapperas  jamais, 
quand  tu  serais  assez  petit  pour  pgnStrer  jusqvi'aux  abimes  de  la 
terre,  ni  quand  tu  serais  assez  grand  pour  t'glever  jusqu'au  ciel." 
II  est  impossible  d'affirmer  plus  fortement  cctte  veritfi ;  mais  Pla- 
ton  ne  la  traite  gufere,  en  general,  que  comme  une  ample  matiferc 
S  de  beaux  mythes  poStiques.' 

(3.)  On  the  duty  of  Repentance.  Denis,  p.  104: — '  Ne  considg- 
rez,  toutefois,  que  le  fond  des  idSes,  et  vous  verrez  que  Platon  a  le 
premier  gtabli  la  ngcessitS  morale  de  la  penitence,  dont  le  chris- 
tianisme  a  fait  depuis  u:n  de  ses  dogmes.  II  faut  que  nous  soyons 
punis  de  nos  fautcs ;  et  ce  n'est  j)as  moins  notre  intgret  que  notre 
devoir  de  courir  au  devant  de  la  justice  irritSe,  de  nous  exi:)oser  ii 
ses  reprochcs  et  a  ses  cbatiments,  de  rStablir  par  la  penitence  la 
sant6  de  I'ame  corrompue  par  le  pScbS :  voila;  ce  que  preche  Ic 
christianisme  ;  voili  ce  que  Platon  enseignait  quatre  sifecles  avant 
Christ.  Mais  la  v<?rite,  telle  que  le  philosophe  la  presente,  ne  sait 
point  se  jjrgter  a  notre  faiblesse  ct  compatir  a  notre  nSant.  .  .  . 
Le  dirai-je  ?  Emanation  du  plus  pur  spiritualisme,  cette  v6rite 
conserve  encore,  au  moins  dans  I'expression  de  Platon,  quelque 
chose  du  mat^rialisme  des  anciens  ages.  Le  philosophe  semblc 
plus  regarder  aux  i^eines  physiques  qu'^  la  contrition  du  coeur, 
qui  seule  constitue  la  vraie  j)gnitence.  On  dirait  qu'il  craignait  de 
n'etre  point  compris  des  esj)rits  matSriels  de  son  temps.  Mais, 
sous  quelque  forme  qu'elle  se  i)rgsente,  la  v^rite  est  la  vSritg,  et 
I'on  ne  saurait  trop  admirer  de  rencontrer  au  sortir  de  la  Sophis- 
tique,  et  dans  la  corruption  des  Grecs,  une  morale  si  hardic,  sipro- 
tbnde,  et  si  austere.' 


200  NOTES, 

In  the  Oorgias  Qi.  480)  Plato  enjoins  the  criminal  to  accuse 
himself  to  the  judge : — 

'  'Edv  6t  ye  a6LKijGij  /)  avruq  ■>]  a7i7\,0Q  tiq  uv  uv  Kr/6?fTai,  avrbv  ekovto 
levai  huElae^  brrov  uc  Taxi-ora  66gei,  Siktjv,  rrapa  tov  dtKacT>/v,  ucTrep  irapa 
Tov  laTpbv,  GTrebdovra  bwuc  /ir/  kyxpoviaOiv  rb  vbarjixa  tt/c  aSiidac  vtvovTiov 
Tj)v  ijjvxvv  TToi/jaei  Kal  aviarbv.'' 

(4.)  Under  the  name  of  Justice,  Plato  enjoins  the  practice  of 
love  and  charity  towards  our  neighbours  in  terms  which  deserve 
to  be  placed  alongside  of  our  Christian  teaching.  Denis,  p.  99 : — 
'  Platon  rejette  toutes  les  definitions  de  la  justice,  qui  avaient 
cours  dans  la  philosoijhic  grecque ;  non  seulement  celle  des  So- 
phistes  qui  mettaient  la  justice  dans  le  droit  du  plus  fort,  mais  en- 
core cette  definition  en  apparence  si  raisonnable,  qu'il  faut  rcndre 
ti  chacun  ce  qui  lui  est  du.  Elle  lui  parait  digne  non  d'un  sage, 
mais  d'un  Periandre,  d'un  Xerx&s,  ou  de  tout  autre  tyran.  Avec 
quelle  force  il  montre  qu'elle  revient  a  dire  qu'il  faut  faire  du  Men 
ft  ses  amis,  du  mal  a  ses  ennemis  !  Veut-on  dire  simplement  qu'il 
faut  faire  du  bien  aux  bons  et  du  mal  aux  mediants  ?  Et  quoi ! 
est-il  d'un  juste  de  faire  du  mal  a  un  homme  quel  qu'il  soit  ?  N'est- 
ce  done  pas  une  necessity  que  ceux  k  qui  I'on  fait  du  mal  devien- 
nent  pires  par  cela  meme  ?  L'horame  juste  no  doit-il  pas,  au  con- 
traire,  scrvir  jusqu'a  ses  ennemis,  et  ramcner  les  mediants  au  bien 
par  sa  vcrtu  ? '     Conip.  RepuU.^  i.  pp.  331-336,  and  other  places 


KoTE  G,  page  60. 

M.  Denis,  i.  144: — '  On  aimerait  que  Platon  fut  alio  plus  loin, 
et  qu'au  lieu  de  s'arrCter  d  la  Grcice,  sa  pensae  se  fut  etendue  it 
rhumanite.  Mais  s'il  declare  que  les  Grecs  sont  naturellemcnt 
amis,  et  qu'ils  sont  unis  par  la  fraternitd  du  sang,  il  declare  aussi 
qu'ils  sont  naturellcmont  strangers  ct  ennemis  a  I'egard  dos  bar- 


NOTES.  201 

bares.  Sans  partager  absolument  Ics  ijrejugSs  de  ses  compatriotes 
ii  regard  dcs  strangers,  tout  en  soutcnant  que  le  roi  de  Perse  est 
au  moins  aussi  noble  que  le  plus  noble  des  Grecs,  que  les  Egyp- 
tiens  sont  les  plus  sages  dcs  mortcls,  et  qu'on  trouve  aussi  des 
liommes  vrairacut  divins  chez  les  barbares,  il  accepte  povirtant  la 
division  grccque  de  notre  espfecc  en  deux  parties  naturellement 
hostilcs ;  ct  si  I'on  rencontre  cbez  lui  I'amour  non  de  telle  ou  telle 
cits,  mais  de  la  patrie,  il  est  impossible  d'j  trouver  I'amour  de 
rhumanit(j.'     Compare  the  RepuUic,  v.  p.  470  : — 

'  ^rjf-U  yap  rh  filv  ''EXXtjvikov  yivog  avrb  avru  olimov  dvai  ical  ^vyyeveg, 
T(j  6e  (iap(iapiK(Ji  odveiov  re  Kai  aTJidrpcov.  .  .  .  "'E,?.h/vaQ  [lev  apa  fiap- 
j3dpoig,  Kai  fiap(3dpovg  "^TJitjai  Trolefie'iv  fiaxofievovg  te  (pt/ao/xev,  ical  7zo?ie- 
ftiovg  (pvaei  elvac.  .  .  "'EJikijvag  61  "WChjaiv  urav  tc  tocovto  (Spoxrtj  (puaec 
fiEV  (piXovg  dvai,  vocelv  6e  ev  ru  tocovtcj  ttjv  ''EXkdSa  Kai  aramd^ecv.'' 

And  furtlier,  i.  373 : — 

'  Platon,  non  jjIus  qu'Aristote,  ne  congoit  de  rei^ublique  que 
s'il  I'cuferme  dans  uue  certaine  enceinte ;  il  lui  faut  pour  cela  un 
lieu  convenable  et  de  son  clioix ;  il  veut  qu'il  n'y  ait  dans  son  Etat 
imaginaire  que  dix  mille  citoyens  comme  a  Sparte.' 


Note  H,  page  61. 

The  views  of  Aristotle  with  regard  to  slavery  are  thus 
summed  up  by  "Wallon,  Hist,  de  VEsclavage  dans  V Antiquite,  i. 
373  foil.  :— 

'  L'Etat,  selon  la  definition  cl'Aristote,  est  une  society  compos6e 
de  telle  sorte  qu'elle  trouve  en  elle  de  quoi  suffire  fi  toutcs  les  nS- 
cessitSs  de  la  vie  .  .  .  Ainsi  va  se  marquer,  dans  la  masse  dcs 
hommes  qui  le  composent  nScessairement,  une  ligne  de  i^artage 
nettement  tracSe.  D'un  cotS,  le  citoyen  accomiDlissant  a  lui  seul 
la  destination  de  la  cite,  tendant  au  bonhcur  par  la  verru  au  sein 


202  NOTES. 

du  loisir ;  et  de  I'uutre,  des  liommes  dont  le  scul  but  parait  etrc  de 
rendre  aux  citoyens  ces  loisirs  j)ossibles :  pour  Tagriculture  et  Tin- 
dustrie,  des  laboureurs  et  des  artisans,  pour  le  service  priv6  des 
esclaves. 

'  Cette  orgauisatiou  n^cessaire  a  I'Etat  ainsi  cou9ue,  Aristote 
la  retrouvej usque  daus  la  fauiillc,  j  usque  dans  la  nature  meme  de 
rhomme.  Car  I'homme  est  ne  sociable.  II  n'est  done  complet  que 
dans  I'association  domestique  ;  et  cette  association  comiDrend  trois 
Ctres :  I'homme  qui  commaude  la  famille,  la  femme  qui  la  jDOrpC- 
tue,  et  I'esclave  qui  la  scii.  Supprimez  une  de  ces  trois  lignes  d'un 
triangle,  et  le  triangle  u'est  plus ;  de  meme  I'esclave  est  en  quelque 
sorte  uu  troisi^me  cote  de  I'homme ;  supprimez-le,  et  vous  n'avez 
plus  I'homme ;  I'homme  en  societe,  c'est  a  dire,  I'homme  vrai.  Mais 
la  relation  d'esclave  a  maitre  ne  sc  trouve  pas  seulement  dans  la 
constitution  de  I'homme  sociable,  dans  la  famille,  Aristote  la  dS- 
couvre  jusquc  dans  le  fond  meme  de  I'homme  individu :  c'est  le 
rapport  du  corps  S  Fame.  L'esclave  est  un  corps,  et  I'idee  finit  par 
en  passer  dans  le  langagc :  on  I'appela  purement  et  simplement 
corjjs,  aufia.^ 

For  the  essential  difference  between  the  master  and  the  slave, 
as  Aristotle  conceived  it,  see  the  whole  of  the  second  chapter  of 
the  first  book  of  the  Politica.     Compare,  for  instance : — 

'  ^hcei  fXEV  ovv  6c6picTac  tu  -df/lv  koI  to  Joi'/lov  .  .  .  ovru  yap  av 
(iTTOTEloiTo  KaTJitara  tuv  bpydvuv  tKaarov,  //?}  no7i7ioiQ  epyotQ  a7JJ  ivl  6cv- 
?i£vov.  'Ev  6e  Tolc  [iapPapoiQ  to  Oijlv  ical  SovTiov  t//v  avTi/V  £;\[ei  tq^iv  • 
aiTiov  61,  brtrb  fvaet.  apxov  ova  ixovaiv,  a?M  ylyvETai  y  Kotvuvia  avTuv 
6oii?,7ig  Kal  dovTiov.  Ai6  ^aaiv  ol  TroijjTa'r  Bappdpuv  J'  "ETilTivag  upxein 
Eucdg  •  wf  Tavrb  ^vast  ^apjiapov  naX  dovTiov  bv. 

'  'AvayKT]  yap  elvai  rivag  ^dvai  Toiig  fiEV  navTa^ov  So'vTiOvr,  rovg  6' 
ovSaj-wl)  .  .  .  a^Lovat  yap,  uarzep  t^  avOpiiirov  avOputvov  nal  ek  ■dr/ptuv 
yEVEcdai  d-f/piov,  ovru  icat  tf  dyaduv  ayaOov.  .  .  .  "On  jitv  ovv  exei  tivo. 
Myov  7/  duina^/jTTjaig,  nai  e'laiv  ol  p-hv  ipvaEt  dovloc,  ol  6'  elevdEpoi,  d^Tiov.' 


NOTES.  203 

The  inextricable  difficulties  in  which  this  theory  involved 
him  must  ai^jjear  at  first  sight,  and  are  well  stated  by  Wallon : — 
'  Mais,  en  admettant  qu'il  y  ait  un  esclavage  naturel,  de 
quel  appui  serait-il  il  I'esclavage  comma  il  est  constitue  dans  la 
Bocigtg?'  &c. 

M.  Trojilong  {De  VInfluence  du  Christ icmisme  stir  le  Droit  Ro- 
main,  i.  cli.  iv. — a  book  of  which  I  shall  have  to  speak  again) 
thus  compares  the  views  of  Plato  and  Aristotle  on  the  subject  of 
slavery  :—'Platon  disait:  "Si  un  citoyen  tue  son  esclave,  la  loi 
declare  Ic  meurtrier  exempt  de  peiue,  pourvu  qu'il  se  purifie  par 
des  expiations ;  mais  si  un  esclave  tue  son  maitre,  on  lui  fait  subir 
tous  les  traitements  qu'on  juge  a;  propos,  jjourvu  qu'on  ne  lui 
laisse  pas  la  vie."  Aristote  allait  j)lus  loin,  s'il  est  possible,  dans 
sa  thgorie  de  I'esclavage.  "II  y  a  j)eu  de  difference  dans  les  ser- 
vices que  I'homme  tire  de  I'esclave  et  de  I'animal.  La  nature  mcme 
le  veut,  puisqu'elle  fait  les  corps  des  hommes  libres  diflerents  de 
ceux  des  esclaves ;  donnant  aux  uns  la  force  qui  convient  a  leur 
destination,  et  aux  autres  une  stature  droite  et  glevSe."  Puis  I'il- 
lustre  philosophe  conclut  ainsi  : — "  II  est  done  Evident  que  les  uns 
sont  naturellement  libres^  et  les  autres  naturellement  esclaves^  et  que, 
pour  ces  derniers,  I'esclavage  est  aussi  utile  qu'il  est  juste."  (Poli- 
tic, i.  2.)  Ainsi'l'esclavage  est  de  droit  naturel;  il  trouve  sa  le- 
gitimite  dans  la  justice  et  la  nature :  telle  est  la  doctrine  qu'Aris- 
tote  expose  sans  objection.' 


Note  I,  page  65. 

Plutarch  (or  Pseudo-Plutarch),  De  Alexandri  M.  Virtute  aut 
Fortuna,  i.  6  : — 

'  Oil  7ap,  wf  ' Apic-OTe?,jjc  cvve[iov'^ev£v  avrC>^  roig  fiiv  "'E7Jir,Gi,v  ijyziiovi' 
(ctjf,  Toiq  Je  liap/iapoic  deaTroTiKug  xP^f^^oc  '  ^al  tuv  fiiv  uq  (piAuv  Ka 
oiKEtuv  emfie/Mv/xnvg,  roZf  6t,  uq  I^iSoiq  r)  (jivrolc,  7rpo(j(pEp6iievog,  'nO?i,efio-otc)v 


204  NOTES. 

(pvyuv  EveTTlrjce  Koi  cTaaeuv  virohluv  rf^v  yye/xoviav,  c?.?m  Koivbg  Tjntiv  ■&E66ev 
dpfio(jT?/g  ml  6ia7<.laiiT7ic  tuv  '6?mv  vofii^uv,  ovq  tQ  Myu  fxy  cvvfjye,  toIc 
oTrTioig  ^la^dfievog,  etg  to  avTo  cvvevejkuv  to.  Travrax^dev,  ucirep  ev  KpaTijpi 
^ikoTTjaiu^  fii^ag  rovg  jSlovg  kuI  to.  r^d?j,  nai  Toiig  jafzovg  koi  diairag^  Trarpida 
uev  T?p>  olnovjihrfv  TcponeTa^ev  yyeicOat,  navTcg,  aKp67:oXiv  de  Kol  <ppovpav  to 
(TTpaT6-E6ov,  cvyyeve'ig  6e  Tovg  ayadovg,  cMo^vAovg  6e  ~ovg  irovripovg  •  to  6e 
''EXkTpiKov  Koi  (iapfiapLKov  [ifj  x^^^/^vSi,  nr/Se  ttD.tti,  fi?}6s  aKcvdicri,  [iTj^e 
KavSvl  diopii^eiv,  dlld  to  fiev  'EUriviKuv  dpcTy,  to  6e  fiap[iapiiiov  KUKig. 
reKualcEcdac  •  Koivdg  6i'  Tag  ec^yTag  I'lye'iadai  kol  Tpaire^ag,  aal  ydfiovg  /cat 
diairag,  6i'  aifiaTog  ical  tekvuv  dvaKepavvvf^EVovg.'' 

If  this  treatise  is  not  by  Plutarcli  liimself,  it  breathes  the  spirit 
of  his  age  and  of  his  views  of  history.  It  regards  the  character 
of  Alexander's  conquest  from  the  point  of  a  much  later  genera- 
tion, and  of  a  liberal  and  humane  philosophy.  It  judges  of  Alex- 
ander's policy  from  a  comprehensive  view  of  the  effects  it  pro- 
duced, and  ascribes,  fondly  j^erhaps,  to  the  man,  a  deliberate  in- 
tention of  which  he  may  have  had  no  conception.  The  earlier 
historians  of  Alexander,  and  Livy,  who  acutely  criticizes  his  mili- 
tary character,  indulged  apparently  in  no  such  imaginations  re- 
garding him.  Whether  they  were  right  or  wrong  in  describing 
him  as  a  mere  conqueror  need  not  be  considered  here.  In  any 
case  the  effect  of  his  conquest  was  the  same,  and  we  may  acknowl- 
edge our  obligation  to  the  author  of  the  treatise  before  us,  for 
calling  attention  to  it  in  his  own  fashion. 

Note  J,  jjage  68. 

I  transcribe  a  passage  from  Denis  {Idees  Morales^  <&c.,  i.  369), 
in  which  he  signalizes  the  effect  of  the  Macedonian  conquest  on 
the  speculations  of  Greek  philosophy,  and  especially  of  the 
Stoic  :— 

'  Alexandre  avait  essayS  de  faire  un  seul  peuple  dcs  Grecs  et 
dcs  bai'bares,  et  de  les  unir  dans  une  vaste  communauti  de  droits, 


NOTES.  205 

d'interOts,  dc  langage,  et  dc  civilisation.  Le  Sto'icisme  semble 
avoir  licrite  de  I'esprit  universel  qui  aniinait  le  lieros  dans  sa  con- 
quGte.  Je  le  sais,  I'idee  seule  de  I'lionnete  ponvait  conduire  un 
esprit  juste  ct  rigoureux  a:  concevoir  Funite  du  genre  liumain,  et 
tous  les  devoirs  ou  les  droits  qui  en  derivent.  Car  lorsqu'on  n'aiJ- 
pr6cie  les  hommes  que  par  leur  capacite  naturelle  pour  la  vertu, 
toutes  les  distinctions  et  toutes  les  in^galites  disparaissent :  il  n'y 
a  plus  de  Grecs  ni  de  barbares,  de  maitres  ui  d'esclaves;  il  n'y  a 
que  des  gtres  raisonnables  qui,  posstidant  tous  la  liberte  a  un  6gal 
degr6,  sont  tous  soumis  il  la  mOme  loi  universelle.  I^Iais  pourquoi 
Z6non,  qui  n'etait  peut-etre  quMn  esprit  mediocre,  a-t-il  eu  des 
vues  plus  larges  et  plus  bumaines  Cjue  les  grands  esprits  qui  I'a- 
vaient  precede  ?  C'est  que,  pour  tirer  les  consequences  du  princiiJC 
moral,  il  n'avait  jias  besoin  de  faire  violence  a;  ses  prgjuges,  ni  de 
s'61ever  beaucoup  au-dessus  de  la  rGalite :  il  lui  suflBsait,  au  con- 
trairc,  d'ouvrir  les  yeux  et  de  regarder  les  faits. 

'  A  cette  ejjoque,  un  Grec  retrouvait  partout  la  Grtice,  sur  les 
cotes  de  I'ltalie  meridionale,  en  Sicile,  a  Pergame,  a  Alexandrie,  a 
Seleucie,  a  Babylone,  dans  une  partie  de  TEuroj^e,  et  jsresque  dans 
toute  I'Asie  jusqu'aux  laords  du  Gange  et  de  I'Indus.  II  jjouvait 
done  se  croire  a  juste  titre  non  plus  citoyeu  de  SjDarte  ou  d'Atlic!- 
nes,  mais  citoyen  de  Funivers.  La  A^anite  pouvait  encore  le  s^pa- 
rer  du  barbare ;  mais  les  liaiues  et  les  animosites,  qui  entretenaient 
auparavant  les  prejug^a  nationaux,  s'Steignaient  de  plus  en  jolus 
dans  un  commerce  et  des  relations  de  tous  les  jours.  On  vit  bien- 
tot,  jusque  dans  les  ficoles  des  pbilosophes,  une  image  de  cette  so- 
cifitg  mfilge  qui  venait  de  toutes  les  contrees  de  la  terre.  Comme 
toutes  les  conditions  se  reucontraient  dans  le  Portique  et  que,  sc- 
ion le  mot  de  Timon,  "une  nuSe  de  Penestcs  ou  de  serfs  et  de 
gueux,"  tels  que  le  manoeuvre  ClSantlie  et  I'esclave  PersSe,  s'y 
pressaient  S  c6t(3  des  citoyens  les  plus  riches  et  les  mieux  nSs :  de 
meme  on  voyait  fi  cote  des  vrais  Grecs  une  foule  d'liommes  de 
toute  nation,  partis  de  Tyr,  de  Carthage,  d'Alexandrie,  ou  d'An- 


206  NOTES. 

tioclie  pour  se  former  dans  AthSues  a  la  sagcsse  hell^niquo.  Le 
fondateur  dii  Stoicisme  n'etait  lui-merae  qu'un  Stranger,  et  ses  en- 
nemis  lui  rcprocliaient  sottemcnt  son  origine  plitniicienne.  Les 
liommes,  jusqu'alors  s6pares  les  uns  des  autres  par  la  distance  ou 
par  la  liaine,  se  rencontraieut  enfin  pacifiqucment  ct  apprcnaient 
S  se  connaitre.  La  verite  et  la  vertu  ne  paraissaient  plus  enfor- 
mees  dans  les  bornes  d'une  citS  ou  d'une  nation ;  Ton  racontait 
mille  merveilles  sur  les  moeurs,  sur  les  lois,  sur  la  religion  et  sur  la 
pliilosopliie  des  peuples  lointains,  qu'avait  ex  jDeine  entrevues  les 
compagnons  d' Alexandre;  on  allait  meme  jusqu'sl  rabaisser  la 
science  des  Grecs  devant  la  sagesse  de  ccs  Indicns,  dont  les  austS- 
rltfe  remplissaient  ZSuon  d'admiration,  et  dont  le  mSpris  pour  la 
vie  lui  faisait  dire  qu'un  Braclimane,  mourant  tranquillement  sur 
le  bilclier,  lui  en  ajoprenait  plus  sur  la  patience  et  sur  le  courage 
que  toutes  les  argumentations  des  pliilosoplics.  La  fusion  entre 
les  idSes  commen9ait  avec  la  fusion  entre  les  peuples  :  les  Grecs 
retrouvaient,  ou  croyaient  retrouver,  i^artout  le  berceau  de  leurs 
dieux  et  de  leurs  croyances ;  et  dSjti  le  juif  Aristobule,  dont  I'ex- 
emple  devait  gtre  suivi  par  tant  d'Orientaux,  alterait  et  la  Bible 
et  les  dogmes  de  la  pliilosophie  grecque,  pour  dSmontrcr  qu'Aris- 
tote,  Platon  et  Pytliagore  n'avaient  fait  que  piller  Mo'ise  ct  les 
prophfetes.  Le  cosmopolitisme  Stait  partout,  mais  obscur  ct  indS- 
cis  encore  comme  les  vagues  pressentiments  de  I'instinct.  II  de- 
vint  une  tlieorie  aussi  claire  que  fortement  arrStSe  sous  les  mains 
de  Zenon  et  de  ses  disciples.  Mais  ce  n'etait,  je  le  rSp^te,  qu'une 
consequence  naturelle  des  grands  Sv^nements  qui  venaient  de 
changer  la  face  du  monde.  Alexandre  avait  voulu,  dans  sa  gi- 
gantesque  entreprise,  faire  du  monde  entier  un  seul  empire,  ct 
malgre  la  mort  qui  vint  si  vite  intcrromj^re  ses  dcsseins,  malgrS  le 
dgmembremcnt  de  sa  conquSte,  11  avait  jusqu'a;  un  certain  point 
reussi :  11  avait  laiss6  la  Gr&ce  dans  I'Asic,  le  moiivement  dans 
I'lmmobilitS,  la  vie  dans  la  mort,  la  civilisation  dans  la  barbaric. 
L'audacc  du  conquSrant  a  pass6  dans  les  spC'Culations  des  pliilo- 


NOTES.  207 

sojjlies:  ZSnon,  lui  aussi,  mfidite  line  republique  univcrselle,  la 
grande  rSpublique  dcs  intelligences,  avec  Dieu  poiu'  maitre,  et  sa 
pens^e  Ctcrnelle  pour  conduite  et  pour  Ini. 

*  Que  la  r^publique  do  Platon,  ce  rSve  si  vantS,  est  loin  de  la 
grandeur  d'une  telle  conception  ! '  As  far,  one  might  say,  as  in  its 
historic  development,  the  national  Church  of  Judaism  from  the 
Catholic  Church  of  Christendom. 

M.  Denis,  after  the  manner  of  the  French  school  of  history,  as- 
sumes without  question  Alexander's  personal  aims  and  aspira- 
tions. On  this  difficult  subject  a  soberer  criticism  -will  perhaps 
suspend  its  judgment.  The  effect  of  his  conquests  is  undeniable, 
whatever  views  or  no  views  we  may  attribute  to  the  conqueror 
himself  Droysen,  after  writing  the  political  history  of  the  suc- 
cessors of  Alexander,  has  entered  on  the  great  subject  to  which 
it  naturally  leads,  and  in  his  GescMchte  des  ReUenismus  j^romises 
to  imfold  in  all  their  magnificence  the  features  of  the  momentous 
social  revolution  which  followed  upon  Alexander's  conquests,  and 
formed  the  most  general  preparation  for  the  reception  of  Chris- 
tianity. 

Note  K,  page  71. 

I  quote  again  from  M.  Denis,  from  whom  I  have  borrowed  this 
contrast  between  Plato  (with  whom  I  class  the  Stoics  and  others 
who  derived  from  him)  and  the  earlier  philosophers  {IcUes  Mo- 
rales^ i.  p.  126): — 

'  Qu'on  remue  tant  qu'on  voudra  les  institutions  et  les  mocurs 
de  la  Gr&ce,  on  n'y  trouvera  jamais  la  trace  des  speculations 
presque  mystiques  de  Platon.  Meme  si  on  le  compare  a  Xeno 
phon  et  S  Socrate,  non  jilus  aux  iclSes  jDopulaircs,  mais  aux  doc- 
trines ijhilosophiques,  quelle  profonde  dift'firence  !  Ce  qui  ftiit  le 
prix  de  la  temperance  aux  yeux  de  Socrate  et  de  Xtinophou,  c'cst 
quY'Ue  nous  met  a  meme  d'agir  virilement;  ce  qui  en  fait  le  prix 


208  NOTES. 

pour  Platon,  c'est  qu'elle  nous  dCtache  du  corjjs  et  de  la  terre. 
Lc  courage,  tel  quo  le  con9oit  Socrate,  a  jDour  but  de  nous  pro- 
curer I'empire,  ou  tout  au  moins  la  libertg.  II  n'est  pour  Platon 
que  le  complement  de  la  tempCrance,  qui  nous  apprcnd  a;  mourir 
au  corps,  au  monde  et  a  nous-memes.  Je  sais  que  Socrate,  en  tant 
que  pliilosoplie,  estimait  surtout  dans  la  temperance  et  le  courage 
la  liljerte  interieure  qu'ils  nous  assurent.  Mais  aurait-il  compris, 
et  son  bon  sens  aurait-il  api)rouve  ce  que  Platon  apiDclle  si  (Jner- 
giquement  la  meditation  de  la  mort  ?  Ce  qu'il  y  avait  dans  So- 
crate de  plus  original  apr&s  son  caract^rc,  c'Staient  ses  idSes  sur  la 
sagesse  et  sur  I'amour;  mais  qu'ellcs  jiaraissent  timides  et  terre  ii 
terre  a  cot6  de  cellos  de  son  oleve !  II  ne  sufRt  pas  a  Platon  de 
comprondro  ce  qu'il  y  a  de  rationnel  dans  la  nature  de  I'homme  et 
dans  celle  de  I'univers ;  il  aspire  a  la  vision  face  ii  focc  du  divin. 
L'amour  n'est  plus  pour  lui  cotte  amitie  qui  doit  unir  les  hommes 
par  les  lions  de  la  vertu  et  dos  bienfaits ;  c'est  la  passion  de  l'£ter- 
nel,  regret  d'un  monde  meilleur,  et  pressentimont  de  notre  future 
immortality.  Ces  idSes  et  ces  aspirations  paraissent  si  etrangcs 
dans  un  Grec,  qu'on  croit  partout  y  reconnaitre  inspiration  de 
I'Orient.' 

The  relations  of  Plato  ^vitll  Zoroaster  and  the  Brahmins  are 
matters  of  conjecture  only ;  but  of  the  influence  of  these  and 
other  teachers  upon  the  later  Greek  philosophy  of  Zeno  and  his 
successors  there  can  be  no  question. 

Note  L,  page  71. 

I  would  not  be  supposed  to  merge  Judaism  in  the  mass  of  na- 
tional religions  to  which  this  language  may  be  justly  applied. 
The  circumstances  wlfich  render  the  Revelation  to  the  Jews  essen- 
tially a  religion  by  itself,  however  similar  in  some  outward  feat- 
ures to  the  common  type  of  the  Heathen  cults,  require,  and  have 
often  rocoived,  special  and  separate  *trcat men t.      One  great  and 


NOTES.  209 

vital  distinction  between  them  is  that  Judaism,  alone  as  far  as  we 
leam,  presents  the  character  of  an  exclusive  national  religion, 
combined  with  the  worship  of  one  God.  All  Heathen  nations 
believed  in  their  own  god  or  gods  as  peculiar  to  themselves,  and 
opposed  to  other  gods  of  their  enemies.  There  are  numerous 
traces,  indeed,  of  a  tendency  among  the  Jews  to  this  false  but 
attractive  conception ;  but  it  is  distinctly  repudiated  by  the  real 
genius  of  the  Mosaic  Revelation.  I  find  this  remark  in  Colani's 
Jesus-Christ  et  les  Croyances  Messianiques,  p.  3: — 

'  La  grande  originality  des  Israelites  consiste  precis^ment  en 
ceci,  qu'ils  ont  cru  avcc  une  egale  Anergic  ii  I'unitg  de  I'Etre  divin 
et  a  sa  prt'dilection  pour  leur  race :  il  n'y  a  d'autre  Dieu  que  Jg- 
hova,  et  Jehova  a  fait  une  alliance  eternelle  avec  Jacob.  La  con- 
viction gtonnante  qu'ont  eue  certains  hommcs  d'etre  si  bien  glus 
du  Trts-IIaut  qu'Il  n'aurait  pu  se  joasser  d'eux,  le  peuple  juif  I'a 
eue,  en  tant  que  peuple.' 

Note  M,  page  75. 

On  the  opinions  of  the  Stoics  regarding  the  Future  Life,  I  re- 
fer again  to  Denis  (Idees  Morales,  i,  359)  : — 

'  Doit-on  ajouter  fi  cette  morale  religieuse  le  dogme  de  I'im- 
mortalite  de  I'ume.  Si  je  ne  me  trompe,  les  Stoiciens,  tant  ceux 
de  la  seconde  epoque  que  ceux  de  la  premiere,  n'ont  jamais  insists 
fortement  sur  cette  idee  consolante.  Caton  se  tue  en  lisant  le 
Phedon  de  Platon,  et  non  pas  un  livre  de  quelqu'un  de  ses  bons 
amis  les  Stoiciens.  Epictfete,  Marc-Aurfele  et  Sen^quc  ne  parle 
qu'incidemment,  et  non  pas  meme  sans  reserve,  de  I'immortalitS. 
Jamais  ils  n'en  font  le  but  et  I'encouragement  de  la  vertu.  On  ne 
pcut  cependant  douter  qu'ils  ne  I'aicnt  admise,  je  ne  dis  pas 
comme  une  ojiinion  gtablie  et  fermement  arretee,  mais  au  moins 
comme  une  grande  et  belle  esperance.  Parmi  les  priucipaux  re- 
prSsentants  du  Portique,  Panetius  est  le  seul  qui  nous  soit  signals 
1-1 


210  NOTES. 

comnie  niant  toute  cspece  cle  vie  future,  raalgrg  sa  prgdilectiou 
pour  Platon.  .  .  .  Quant  aux  autres  Stoiciens,  Icurs  opinions 
l)euvent  sei-.I)ler  Stranges,  mais  elles  indiquent  6^ademment  la 
permaueuce  possible  de  I'ame.  "  lis  avan9ait,"  nous  dit  CicSron, 
'•  que  les  amcs  coutinuent  a  exister  a^Dri^s  qu'elles  sont  sorties  du 
corps,  mais  qu'elles  ne  doivent  point  to uj  ours  durer,  nous  grati- 
fiant  ainsi  non  de  I'immortalitS,  mais  d'une  longue  vie,  Jl  pen  pr6s 
comme  dcs  corneilles."  DiogSne  nous  exjjlique  ecs  mots  de  Cic6- 
ron.  Selon  lui,  CMantLe  pensait  que  les  Smes  se  conservent  jus- 
qu'S  la  conflagration  du  monde,  c'est-^-dire,  jusqu'au  moment  ou 
I'univers  rentre  dans  Ic  sein  de  Jupiter  d'ou  il  est  sorti,  de  sorte 
que  toutes  les  Smes,  celles  des  liommes  et  celles  des  dieux,  doivent 
un  jour  se  perdrc  et  s'aneantir  dans  la  substance  de  I'Etre  premier. 
Mais  Chrysippe  u'accordait  cette  permanence  et  cette  durSe  qu'aux 
ames  des  gens  de  bien  et  des  sages.*  II  pai'ait  done  penser  avec 
Platon,  que  I'ame  n'emporte  avec  elle  dans  I'autre  vie  que  ses  actes 
intellectuels  et  moraux.  LTimc  survit  done  au  corps,  du  moins 
lorsqu'elle  a  Stg  vertueuse ;  et  selon  Chrysippe,  elle  conserve  les 
vertus  et  les  veritSs  dont  elle  s'est  orn6e.  Mais  sur  quellcs  preuves 
les  Stoiciens  affirmaient-ils  cette  espfece  d'immortalittj  ?  Je  n'en 
trouve  qu'une  seule ;  s'il  faut  en  croire  Sen^que,  nous  devons  re- 
garder  comme  tout  sto'icien  I'argument  du  consentement  imanime 


*  [Comp.  Plutai'cb,  De  Placit.  Pldlos.  Iv.  7.  '  Oi  Stwi/coI  i^iouaav  rdv  (Tuhcltuiv 
v7io<l>epe(T9ai  ti);'  fiev  aa^evetTTepav  o;ua  tois  <7vyKpiixa<ri,  yeveaOai,  Tavrriv  &'  tivai  tCiv 
airaiSivTiav  "  Tiji'  S'  ItrxvpOTcpav,  o'la  eoTt  Trepi  tows  <ro<^ous,  Kal  jnc'xpt  ti")?  exn'upiotreojs. 
Seneca,  Consol.  ad  Marc.  26.  'Et  quum  tcmpus  advenerit,  quo  se  mundus  rcnovatu 
rus  exstinguat :  viribus  ista  sese  suis  cicdeiit,,  et  sidera  sideribus  incurreut,  et  omni 
flagrante  materia,  nno  igne,  quicquid  nunc  ex  disposito  lucct,  ardebit.  Nos  quoque, 
feliccs  anima>,  et  a-terna  sortita',  quum  Deo  visum  erit  iterum  ista  moliri,  labentibus 
cunctis,  ct  ipsaj  parva  rnina;  iugentis  accessio,  in  antiqua  elementa  vertcmur.'  Comp. 
ilso  Elliot.  DinR.  iii.  13.  1.  Eusebii  Prctixir.  Ecangel.  sv.  20.  'To  5^  Siafjieveiv  ras 
i|/vxas  ovTui  \eyovcni',  oTt  SiajaeVo/ifi'  jj^teis  ipvxai  yevofxevoi,  toG  (jui^aTOS  x^P'-"'^^^'''''^ 
Kai  et;  cAdrTO)  fierajSaAdi'Tos  oucrt'ov  Trjv  t^s  i^/vx'/S-  Td;  Se  roiv  ai^poviov  Kal  i.\6y<iiv  ^uta>v 
^u^ds  (Tt'i-OTrdAAucrSai  to?;  crcujuaac.'] 


NOTES.  211 

des  peuples.  ...  Si  les  Stoiciens  se  boruaient  recllemcnt  a 
cette  raison,  j'en  conclurais  qu'ils  ne  voulaient  pas  abanclonncr 
I'imniortalite  de  Fume,  parce  qu'elle  est  une  opinion  salutaire,  mais 
aussi  qu'elle  ue  faisait  point  partie  de  leurs  dogmes  arretes  et  pbi- 
losophiques.  lis  ne  la  rattachaient  pas  d'ailleurs  au  principe  mo- 
ral. Car  c'est  pour  eux  une  id6e  invariable  que  la  vertu  se  suffit 
a;  elle-mSme,  et  qu'elle  trouve  en  soi  sa  recompense,  comme  le  vice 
renferme  en  soi  sa  propre  puuition.  Oi",  si  les  bons  avaient  du  re- 
cevoir  dans  une  autre  vie  le  prix  de  leurs  vertus,  pourquoi  les  me- 
diants n'auraient-ils  aussi  re9u  le  prix  de  leurs  actions  mauvaises  ? 
Mais  ni  CKiantbe,  ni  Clirysippe,  ni  leurs  disciples  grecs  ou  romains 
de  I'gpoque  imp^riale  ne  paraissent  avoir  admis  cette  ngcessit6  soit 
de  la  recompense,  soit  de  Texpiation ;  .  .  .  pour  eux  toute 
mauvaise  action  porte  en  elle-m^me  son  chatiment,  et  le  vice  ne 
parait  lieureux  qu'aux  insensSs.  lis  ne  voulaient  pas  d'ailleurs 
qu'on  dirigeat  les  liommes  par  la  crainte  des  dieux  et  de  leurs 
vengeances.  "  Non,-"  disait  Clirysippe,  "  ce  n'est  pas  un  bon  nioyen 
de  detourner  les  liommcs  de  I'injustice  que  la  crainte  des  dieux." 
II  ne  faut  done  pas  traiter  les  liommes  comme  des  enfants  i\  qui 
Ton  fait  peur,  et  il  n'y  a  de  veritable  moralitS  que  lorsqu'on  aime 
et  qu'on  embrasse  la  vertu  jiour  elle-mgrne  et  par  raison.  Voihx 
le  motif,  je  n'en  doute  pas,  pour  lequel  les  Stoiciens  parlaient  si 
pen  de  I'immortalitg  de  I'Sme,  et  ne  se  riaient  pas  moins  que  les 
flpicuriens  de  tout  ce  qu'on  dSbite  sur  les  enfers.  Platon  aime  fi 
insister  sur  les  croyances  populaires :  il  est  politique  autant  que 
moraliste.  Les  Stoiciens  ne  sont  plus  que  moralistes ;  ils  blament 
Platon  d'avoir  eu  recours  i\  des  fables  et  jDresqu'ti  une  fraude, 
parce  que  le  pliilosophe  ne  doit  pas  remplacer  la  verite  et  la  raison 
par  I'imagination,  ni  la  morality  par  I'egoisme  et  la  peur.' 


212  NOTES. 


Note  N,  Page  77. 

M.  Denis,  Idecs  Morales^  i.  344 : — '  Si  la  loi  n'est  que  la  droite 
raison,  elle  n'existe  que  pour  les  gtres  raisonnables.  D'ou  il  suit 
qu'il  n'y  a  aucun  droit  naturel  entre  les  hommes  et  les  b6tes. 
Mais  il  en  existe  un  entre  les  hommes,  et  nul  ne  pent  le  violer 
sans  crime  et  sans  abjurer  la  nature,  puisque  tons  participent  a,  la 
raison.  Or,  c'est  cette  particiijation,  cette  sorte  de  parents  ration- 
nelle,  qui  est  le  fondement  de  la  justice  et  de  la  communaute 
sociale.  II  y  a  plus :  le  m8me  droit  unit  les  liommes  et  les  dieux, 
l)uisqu'ils  out  une  origine  et  une  nature  communes.  II  les  rat- 
taclie  les  ims  et  les  autres  au  principe  de  la  nature  et  de  la  v6rit6, 
a  Jujjiter,  d'ou  gmanent  toute  justice  et  toute  raison.  Que  si  c'est 
la  communautg  de  droit  qui  constitue  l'£tat,  il  n'y  a  done  qu'un 
seul  £tat,  comme  il  n'y  a  qu'une  loi  universelle :  c'est  le  monde, 
rgpublique  des  hommes  et  des  dieux.  "  II  n'y  a  pas  plus  d'Etats 
distinguSs  par  nature,"  disait  Aristote,  "  qu'il  n'y  a  naturellement 
de  maisons,  d'li^ritages  ou  de  boutiques  de  serruriers  et  de  cbii'ur- 
giens."  Done  tons  les  Etats  de  la  terre  ne  le  sont  que  de  nom ; 
le  monde  seul  I'est  de  fait  et  de  droit.  Aussi  les  Sto'iciens  ne 
regardaient-ils  pas  comme  des  magistrals  ceux  qui  ne  doivent 
leurs  titres  et  leur  autoritS  qu'aux  suffrages  du  sort  ou  de  la  foule. 
Le  seul  l^gislateur,  le  seul  magistral,  le  seul  juge,  le  seul  souve- 
rain  legitime  est  le  sage.  De  la  ce  paradoxe  que  le  sage  seul  est 
libre  et  citoyen,  tandis  que  les  insensgs  ne  sont  que  des  exilgs,  des 
strangers  et  des  esclaves.  II  y  a  un  grand  sens  sous  ccs  Ctranges 
paroles.  .  .  .  Nous  trouvons  dans  cette  fiction  une  haute 
pensfie  philosophique,  l'id(5e  de  la  societe  des  csj^-its,  dont  Dieu 
est  le  pfere  et  le  souverain.  Et  quand  nous  voyons  que  le  Stoicisme 
admettait  dans  cette  cit6  inferieure  les  esclaves  si  nieprises  des 
anciens,  nous  oublions  volontiers  ses  imaginations  antij^hysiques, 
pour  saluer  la  premiere  apparition  du  droit  et  de  I'humanite.  .  .  .' 


NOTES.  213 

M.  Denis  adds  in  a  note  a  little  furtber  on  :— '  La  th6orie  dc  la  loi 
et  de  la  cit6  univcrselles  a  ete  donugc  par  quelques  niodemes 
comnie  appartenant  surtout  a  Cic^ron  ot  aux  Sto'iciens  posterieurs. 
Cost  une  des  plus  graves  crrcurs  liistoriques.  Quand  je  n'aurais 
pas  les  t§moignages  de  Plutarque,  de  Clement  d'Alexandrie,  dc 
Philon  et  de  bien  d'autres  qui  attribuent  cette  tlieorie  an  Stoicisme 
en  g^n^ral,  jc  saurais  par  Ciceron  meme  que  c'est  la  une  thC'orie 
toute  stoicienne.  Dans  les  Lois  il  avoue  qu'il  expose  les  idSes  du 
Portique.  Dans  les  trait^s  des  Fins,  des  Devoirs,  de  la  Nature 
des  Dieux,  et  dans  les  Academiques,  il  donne  cette  th^orie  non 
pour  sienne,  niais  comme  appartenant  a  Zenon  et  Clirysippe.  J'en 
dis  autant  de  SC-n^que,  et  d'Epict&te,  qui  en  parlent  toujours  comme 
d'une  chose  reconnue.  Et  n'est-il  pas  question  de  la  loi  unique 
et  universelle  dans  I'hymne  meme  de  Cleanthe  ? ' 

The  beatification,  so  to  say,  of  the  true  philosophers  hereafter, 
and  the  spiritual  communion  of  the  saints  of  Stoicism  in  heaven, 
is  a  well-known  dogma  of  the  school,  though  not  altogether  pe- 
culiar  to  it ;  for  which  it  is  sutRcient  to  cite  the  verses  of  Lucan. 
PTiarsal.  viii.  init. : — 

'  Quodque  patet  terras  inter  lunseque  meatus 
Semidei  Manes  habitant,  quos  ignea  virtus, 
Innoeuos  vitse,  patientes  aetheris  imi 
Fecit,  et  ^temos  animam  coUegit  in  orbes. 
N"on  illic  auro  positi,  non  thure  sepulti 
Perveniunt.     Ulic  postquam  se  lumine  vero 
Implevit,  stellasque  vagas  miratus  et  astra 
Fixa  polls,  vidit  quanta  sub  nocte  jaceret 
Nostra  dies.     .     .     .' 


214r  NOTES. 


Note  O,  page  77. 

St.  Augustin,  Be  vera  Jieligione,  i.  3 : —  • 

'  Si  enim  Plato  ipse  viveret,  et  me  interroganteni  noii  aspenia- 
retur ;  vel  j^otius,  si  quis  ejus  discipulus,  eo  ipso  tempore  quo  vi- 
vebat,  eum  interrogaret,  cum  sibi  ab  illo  persuaderetur,  non  corpo- 
reis  oculis,  sed  pura  mente  veritatem  videri:  cui  quaecumque 
anima  inhaesisset,  earn  beatam  fieri  atque  perfectam:  ad  quam 
percipiendam  miliil  magis  impedire  quam  vitam  libidinibus  dedi- 
tam  ct  falsas  imagines  rerum  sensibilium,  qnsa  nobis  ab  lioc  sensi- 
bili  mundo  per  corpus  impressa^  varias  oi^iniones  erroresque  gene- 
rarent :  quamobrem  sanandum  esse  animum  ad  intuendam  incom- 
mutabilem  rerum  formam,  et  eodem  modo  semj)er  se  habentem 
atque  uudique  sui  similem  pulcritudincm,  nee  distentam  locis,  net 
tempore  variatam,  sed  unum  atque  idem  omni  ex  parte  servantcm, 
quam  non  crederent  esse  homines,  cum  ipsa  vere  summeque  sit : 
cEetera  nasci,  occidere,  fluere,  labi,  et  tamen  in  quantum  sunt,  ab 
illo  seterno  Deo  per  ejus  veritatem  fabricata  constare :  in  quibus 
animse  tantum  rationali  et  intellectuali  datum  est,  ut  ejus  seterni- 
tatis  contemplatione  perfruatur,  atque  afficiatur  ometurque  ex  ea, 
aitemamque  vitam  possit  mereri :  sed  dum  nascentium  atque 
transeuntium  rerum  amore  ac  dolore  sauciatur,  et  dcdita  consuc- 
tudini  hujus  vitaj  atque  sensibus  corporis,  inanibus  cvanescit  ima- 
ginibus,  ii'ridet  eos  qui  dicimt  esse  aliquid  quod  nee  istis  videatur 
oculis,  nee  ullo  pliantasmate  cogitetur,  sed  mente  sola  et  intelli- 
gentia  cerni  queat : — cum  hajc  ergo  a  magistro  sibi  jjcrsuaderen- 
tur,  si  ex  eo  qusereret  ille  discipulus,  utrum  si  quisquam  existeret 
vir  magnus  atque  divinus,  qui  talia  populis  persuaderet  credenda 
saltern,  si  persipere  non  valerent,  aut  si  qui  posscnt  percipere,  non 
pravis  opinionibus  multitudinis  implicati,  vulgaribus  obruerentur 
erroribus,  eum  divinis  honoribus  dignum  judicaret: — resiiondcret, 
credo,  ille,  non  posse  lioc  ab  liomine  fieri,  nisi  qiicm  forte  ipsa  Dei 


NOTES.  215 

Virtus  atque  Saj)ientia  ab  ipsa  rerum  natura  cxcejotum,  uec  lionii- 
niim  magisteiro,  seel  intima  illuminationc  ab  incuuabulis  illustra- 
tum,  tanta  honestarct  gratia,  tanta  finnitate  roboraret,  tanta  de- 
nique  niajcstate  subvelicret,  ut  omnia  contemneudo  qua?  pravi 
homines  cupinnt,  et  omnia  perpetiendo  qiuB  liorrescnnt,  et  omnia 
faciendo  qua?  rairantur,  genus  liumanum  ad  tarn  salubrem  fidem 
sumnio  amore  atque  auctoritate  conyerteret." 


Note  P,  page  9G. 

I  cannot  better  illustrate  this  subject  than  by  extracts  from 
Amedee  Thierry's  '  Tableau  do  I'Empire  Komain,'  one  chapter  of 
which  (p.  273,  foil.)  is  entitled  "  Marche  vers  I'Unite  par  le 
Droit':— 

'  Oil  se  dScfele  avec  un  surcroit  d'evidence  cette  revolution 
[marche  vers  I'unitS]  dont  nous  retrouvons  partout  les  vestiges^, 
c'est  dans  I'liistoire  du  droit  romain.  .  .  .  On  I'y  suit  pas  fi 
pas,  depuis  la  grossi&re  organisation  des  sujets  de  Romulus,  jus- 
qu'au  jour  oii,  de  ti'ansformations  en  transformations,  ce  droit 
local,  devcmi  uneformule  applicable  a  toutes  Ics  soci^tes,  et,  comme 
on  I'a  dit,  la  raison  ecrite,  nous  annoncc  a  son  tour,  par  la  voix  de 
la  science  juridique,  que  la  petite  association  des  bords  du  Tibre 
est  devenue  aussi  Tassociation  universclle. 

'  Le  droit  primitif  de  Rome  se  montre  a  nous  en  effet  avec  un 
caractbre  dc  rudesse  tout  a  fait  original.  La  famille  y  est  con- 
stitute sur  des  bases  sans  analogic  ailleurs,  les  jurisconsultes 
romains  eux-memes  nous  I'affirmcnt :  ces  bases  sont  la  2ndssance 
potemelle  et  la  ptmsance  maritale,  qui  se  rattache  etroitement  a  la 
premiere. 

'  Dans  cette  organisation  I'esprit  aristocratique  domine,  la 
famille  a  sa  r^gle  particulifere,  son  autoritfi  absolue.  .  .  .  Lc 
droit  de  propri^tfi,  dc  domaine,  est  un  droit  exclusif  romain,  au 


216  NOTES. 

moins  quant  aux  immcubles ;  FCtranger  n'y  parlicipe  qu'en  vertu 
d'un  privilege  special,  comme  le  Latin  et  Tltalien 

'  Ce  droit  si  fortement  marque  au  cachet  du  patriciat,  le  patri- 
ciat  s'Ctait  reserve  le  privilege  de  rinteri)rgter.  II  avait  seul  le 
clef  de  cette  procedure  a,  moitiS  religieuse,  de  ces  jours  fastes  et 
nefastcs,  de  ces  gestes  symboliqvies,  dc  ces  i^aroles  fatales,  qui 
dominaient  la  loi.  Mais  les  myst^res  du  sacerdoce  juridique  furcnt 
enfin  devoiles.  .  .  .  Le  droit  passe  d^s-lors  de  I'etat  de  tradi- 
tion et  de  doctrine  occulte  a  I'etat  'de  science. 

'  Mais  tandis  que,  dans  sa  spli&rc  lorojDre  et  dans  son  developpe- 
nient  normal,  la  jurisprudence  civile  gprouvait  ces  grands  change- 
ments,  il  s'etait  ouvert  en  dehors  d'elle  une  carriSre  de  discussion 
l^ien  autremcnt  libre,  un  champ  de  progr^s  bien  autrcment  vaste, 
par  la  creation  de  la  preture.     .     .     . 

'  La  i^reture  cut  jjour  oljjet  Tadministration  de  la  justice. 
Papinien  en  definit  les  attributions  princiisales  par  les  trois  mots, 
aider,  siqjpUer,  corriger  le  droit  civil :  aider  la  loi  en  I'inteipretant 
c^uand  ellc  etait  obscure  ;  la  suppleer  quand  elle  etait  muette  ;  la 
corriger  quand  elle  choquait  dans  I'application  le  sentiment  naturel 
cl'equite,  ou  quand  elle  ne  concordait  jilus  avec  les  besoins  con- 
tcmporains  et  le  changement  des  mceurs.     .     .     . 

'  La  juridiction  iM'etorienne  avait  eu,  d^s  le  princiiie,  un  grand 
problJSme  il  rSsoudre,  celui-ci :  quel  droit  6tait  applicable  aux 
etrangers  ?  .  .  .  .  Or  la  loi  romaine  gtait,  dans  toute  son 
etendue,  le  jjatrimoine  du  Romain ;  dans  certaiues  proportions 
dSterminges,  le  privilege  du  Latin  ou  de  I'ltalien  ;  mais  le  provin- 
cial, mais  le  sujet  d'un  gouvernement  vassal,  quand  ils  se  trouvaient 
a  Rome,  ne  pouvaicnt  invoquer  aucune  loi  Scrite.  Quelle  legisla- 
tion auraient-ils  reclamSe  comme  leur  bien  ?    .     .     .     . 

'  La  difRculte  fut  tranchCe  comme  elle  devait  I'etre :  le  i^rSteur, 
dans  la  necessite  de  rendre  justice  sans  loi  precjtablie,  fit  la  loi  lui- 
meme  ;  son  edit,  interpretatif  du  droit  civil  quant  au  Romain,  fut, 
quant  a  I'c'trauger.  \\\\  acte  legislatif  jjur.     Et  lorsque  le  prSteur 


NOTES.  217 

des  C'trangers  vit  se  i^rcsser  autoiir  de  son  tribunal  des  represcn- 
tants  du  monde  ontier,  Europeens,  Africains,  Asiatiques,  liommcs 
civilises,  lionimes  barbares,  quand  il  rendit  des  sentences  qui 
retentissaient  bicntot  d'ltalie  en  Greece,  et  de  Grfece  en  Asie,  le 
droit  pretorien  prit  une  importance,  la  dignity  prgtorienne  un 
6clat.     .     .     . 

'  Cette  obligation  de  tout  construire  imposait  I'obligation  dc 
cherclier  et  de  connaitre  bcaucoup.  On  se  livre  avec  emj)resse- 
ment  a  I'etudc  des  legislations  qui  rggissaient  les  plus  considera- 
bles, et  les  plus  gclairees  des  nations  conquises.     .     .     . 

'  Cc  nc  fut  nieme  Iti  qu'un  premier  degrS  dans  le  travail  de  la 
g6nei"alisation.  Des  donniJcs  dc  I'expgrience,  I'esprit  s'elan^a  vers 
les  speculations  abstraites.  II  voulut  remonter  aux  notions  eter- 
nelles  du  juste  et  de  Tinjuste  joour  en  redcscendre,  avec  des  -pve- 
cejites  et  des  regies  de  pliilosopliie  morale  superieures  a  tous  les 
faits-juridiques,  au  droit  des  gens  comme  au  droit  civil ;  et  \e  droit 
naturel  se  forma  it  I'aide  de  la  philosophic  grecque,  S  I'aide  sur- 
tout  du  Stoicisme,  dont  la  doctrine  ferme  et  gleviie  convenait  bien 
it  la  gravity  des  lois.     .     .     . 

'  Grace  a  cette  science  nouvelle,  I'Stranger  cut  sa  loi  qu'il  put 
invoquer,  et  qui  prit  de  jour  en  jour  plus  de  stability  dans  I'edit 

du  i^rgteur C'est  ainsi  qu'il  se  crga  un  domaine  du  droit 

des  gens,  qui  vint  se  placer  a  cotg  du  domaine  quiritairc ;  une 

propri6t6  pr^torienne,  etc On  aper9oit  d'un  coup   d'oeil 

quelle  alteration  ce  melange  dut  aj)porter  dans  Ic  droit  national. 
Le  droit  pretorien,  devenu  synonyme  d''equite,  rei^r^senta  le  bon 
sens  humain  et  la  science  philosophique,  en  oj^position  a  I'interpre- 
tation  et  a  la  routine  du  droit  civil 

'  C'est  a  partir  de  cette  giDoque '  [of  the  edictum  perpetuum  of 
Hadrian  and  the  edictum  jjrovinciale  of  M.  Aurelius]  '  que  Ic  droit 
remain,  fonde  sur  ses  deux  bases,  Sgalement  solides  desormais,  la 
loi  des  Douze  Tables  et  l'6dit  perx^etuel,  se  d^velopijc  avec  le  plus 
de   rggularite.     La  luttc   feconde   des  Ccoles   avait   produit   ses 


218  NOTES. 

fruits;  les  idees  s'6taient  fixees ;  la  conciliatiou  clu  monde  remain, 
qui  marcliait  alors  a;  si  grands  pas,  accglgrait  la  conciliation  du 
droit  civil  et  du  droit  des  gens,  dans  les  theories  de  la  science.'  .  . 

'Les  travaux  des  jurisconsultes  coutemj)orains  de  Septime  et 
d' Alexandre  S6v&re  nous  montrcnt  I'alliance  du  droit  quiritaire  et 
du  droit  universel  dans  son  plus  bean  develoiopemcnt.  A  mcsure 
qu'on  s'eloigne  de  ce  si^cle,  Telement  national  decroit,  son  sens 
antique  deviant  de  moins  en  moins  compris,  son  cachet  s'efiface ;  et 
dans  la  legislation  de  Justinien,  d'elagage  en  glagage,  le  droit  ro- 
main  se  rgduit  fi  peu  prts  au  droit  des  gens 

'  Au  frontispice  de  ce  grand  Edifice  on  lit  des  lignes  telles  que 
celles-ci : — 

'  "1.  Justitia  est  coiistans  et  perpetua  voluntas  jus  suumcuique 
tribuendo.     Ulpian.  1.  x.  Dig.  de  Just,  et  Jur. 

'  "  2.  Jurisprudentia  est  divinarum  atque  liumanarum  rerum  no- 
titia ;  justi  atque  iujusti  scientia.     Ulj)ian.  1.  x.  Dig.  eod.  tit. 

'"3.  Veluti  erga  deum  religio;  ut  parentibus  et  patriae  parea- 
mus.     Pompon.  1.  ii.  Dig.  de  Just,  ct  Jur. 

'  "  4.  Utpote  cum  jure  natural i  omnes  liberi  nascercntur  .... 
sed  postea  quam  jure  gentium  servitus  invasit.  Ulpian.  1.  iv.  Dig. 
de  Just,  et  Ju): 

'  "  Servitus  est  constitutio  juris  gentium  qua  quis  dominio 
alieno  contra  naturam  subjicitur.  Florent.  1.  ix.  Dig.  de  Stat, 
horn. 

'  "  5.  Juris  praecepta  sunt  lia>c :  Honestfe  vivere,  alteram  non  la;- 
dere,  suum  cuique  tribuere.     Ulpian.  1.  x.  Dig.  de  Just,  et  Jur.  .  ." 

'  C'est  dans  ce  dernier  etat  que  Ic  droit  romain  nous  est  arrive, 
ct  qu'il  a;  fond(3  les  moeurs  des  nations  modcrncs  sorties  de  la  so- 
ciete  romainc.  U  y  tient  une  place  immense;  ct  cctte  place 
s'agrandira  encore  a  mcsure  que  les  restes  de  la  barbaric  feodalc 
disparaitront  en  Europe,  et  que  la  civilisation  s'etcndra.  "  Si  les 
lois  romaines,"  clit  Bossuct,  "out  paru  si  saintes  que  leur  majcst(i 
subsiste  encore,  malgrc  la  ruinc  de  I'Empire,  c'est  que  le  bon  sen^ 


NOTES.  219 

qui  est  le  maitre  de  la  vie  bumainc,  y  rfegne  partout,  et  qu'ou  ue 
voit  nulle  part  line  plus  belle  application  des  principes  dc  I'equite 
naturelle." ' 

Tbcse  extracts  may  sutfice  to  indicate  tbe  nature  of  M.  Tbier- 
ry's  argument,  wbicb  well  deserves  a  more  complete  study.  'It 
must  lead  to  tbe  conclusion  tbat  tbe  expansion  of  Roman  law  was 
caused  not  by  tbe  influence  of  individual  statesmen  and  legisla- 
tors, in  advance  of  tlieir  age,  nor  by  tbe  more  general  diffusion  of 
pbilosopliical  views,  nor,  again,  by  tbe  bumanizing  tendency  of 
Cbristian  sentiments.  It  was  mainly  at  least  tbe  work  of  natural 
circumstances;  it  flowed  from  tbe  necessity  of  tbe  position  of  a 
conquering  people  in  tbe  centre  of  a  great  aggregation  of  subject 
communities.  Tbe  attempt  to  trace  every  liberal  advance  in  Ro- 
man ideas  of  law  to  Cbristian  influence  must  be  regarded  as  un- 
successful. Tbe  rbetoric  of  a  writer  like  Cbateaubriand  on  sucb 
a  subject  may  be  dismissed  as  frivolous.  Hugo,  in  bis  '  History 
of  Roman  Law,'  refers  to  a  work  of  Rbocr  directed  especially  to 
tbis  point,  wbicb  does  not  appear  to  bave  deserved  mucli  atten- 
tion. Hugo  bimself  considers  tbe  influence  of  Cbristiauity  in  tbis 
matter  to  bave  been,  '  on  tbe  wbole  less  tban  migbt  bave  been  ex- 
pected' (§  382),  a  pbrase  wanting  in  clearness  and  precision. 
More  recently,  M.  Troplong  bas  written  bis  work  '  De  I'Influence 
du  Cbristianisme  sur  le  Droit  Civil  des  Romains,'  in  wbicb  tbe 
subject  is  treated  witb  ample  learning,  and  witb  all  tbe  neatness 
and  logical  acumen  of  a  great  Frencb  scbolar,  except  for  tbe  orig- 
inal confusion,  as  it  seems  to  me,  between  cause  and  effect.  In 
tbe  main,  I  sbould  contend  tbat  tbe  expansion  of  Roman  law  led 
to  a  just  api^reciation  of  Christianity,  ratber  tban  tbe  converse. 


220  NOTES. 

Note  Q,  jsagc  100. 

I  have  iDointed  out  some  particulars  in  wMcli  tlie  teaching  of 
St.  Paul  seems  to  be  imbued  with  the  ideas  of  Roman  jurispru- 
dence. Seeking  to  place  before  his  readers  the  true  relation  in 
■which  the  believer  stands  to  God,  he  adopts  significant  illustra- 
tions from  a  subject  familiar  to  himself,  and  fimiliar  pei'haps  at 
the  same  time  to  those  whom  he  immediately  addresses. 

1.  The  mission  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  for  the  salvation  of 
man  is  described  in  Scripture  in  two  ways ;  sometimes  as  being 
done  of  His  own  will,  sometimes  as  the  accomplishment  of  a  task 
imposed  on  Him  by  the  Father.  It  will  be  found  that  while  St, 
John  and  St.  Peter  represent  it  in  the  former  light,  St.  Paul  intro- 
duces the  notion  of  the  Father's  will  controlling  Him,  and  insists 
strongly  upon  it.  Thus  we  have  in  St.  John's  Gospel,  xviii.  37 : 
'  To  this  end  w^as  I  born,  and  for  this  cause  came  I  into  the 
world  ;  that  I  should  bear  witness  of  the  truth.'  1  Epist.  iii.  IG: 
'Because  He  laid  down  his  life  for  us.'  St.  Peter,  1.  iii.  18: 
'  Christ  also  hath  once  suffered  for  sins,  the  just  for  the  unjust.' 
Comp.  iv.  1.  In  one  jilace  St.  John  jDasses  on  towards  the  other 
viev^,  where  he  says  (1.  iv.  9)  :  'In  this  was  manifested  the  love  of 
God  towards  us,  because  that  God  sent  His  only  begotten  Sou  into 
the  world  that  we  might  live  through  Him.'  But  in  St.  Paul,  the 
view  of  Christ's  work  being  one  of  obedience  to  the  Father 
becomes  more  prominent.  Romans  iii.  25  :  '  Whom  God  hath  set 
forth  to  be  a  j)ropitiation.'  V.  19  :  '  As  by  one  man's  disobedience 
many  w^ere  made  sinners,  so  by  the  obedience  of  one  shall  many  be 
made  righteous.'  Gal.  i.  4 :  '  Who  gave  Himself  for  our  sins,  .  .  . 
according  to  the  wull  of  God  the  Father.'  Phil.  ii.  8 :  '  Who  .  .  . 
humbled  Himself  and  became  obedient  unto  death.'  Col.  i.  19: 
'  It  pleased  the  Father  that  in  Him  should  all  fulness  dwell ;  and 
having  made  peace  through  the  blood  of  His  cross,  by  Him  to 
reconcile  all  thintrs  unto  Himself     Ileb.  v.  8  :  '  Though  He  were 


NOTES.  221. 

a  son,  yet  learned  lie  obedience  by  the  things  which  He  suffered.' 
Comp.  X.  7.  It  is  not  meant  that  there  is  any  real  discrepangy  in 
the  two  views  here  indicated,  but  that  the  one  apostle  dwells 
more  ujDon  the  ol^edieuce  of  Christ,  the  others  on  the  spontaneous- 
ness  of  His  sacrifice. 

But  this  notion  of  the  absolute  subjection  of  the  Son  to  the 
Father  agrees  exactly  with  the  well-known  principle  of  Roman  law 
involved  in  the  patria  potestas,  or  authority  of  the^  father.  Down 
to  a  late  period  of  the  Empire,  the  law  of  the  Twelve  Tables, 
which  gave  the  father  power  over  the  person  and  property  of  his 
son,  even  after  he  had  come  of  age,  continued,  at  least  in  theory, 
unabated.  Gaius,  under  the  Antonines,  still  speaks  of  it  as  pecu- 
liar to  Roman  law  {Institut.  i.  55)  : — '  Item  in  potestate  nostra  sunt 
liberi  nostri  quos  justis  nuptiis  procreavimus,  quod  jus  proprium 
civium  Romanorum  est :  fere  enim  nulli  alii  sunt  homines,  qui 
talem  in  filios  suos  liabent  potestatem,  qualem  nos  habemus.'  He 
adds :  '  nee  me  prseterit  Galatarum  gentem  credere  in  potestate 
parentum  liberos  esse.' 

It  is  curious  at  least  that  these  Galatians  should  be  the  persons 
whom  St.  Paul  addressed  in  the  following  language  (Gal.  iv.  1)  : 
'  Now  I  say  that  the  heir,  as  long  us  he  is  a  child,  differeth  nothing 
from  a  servant,  though  he  be  lord  of  all ;  but  is  under  tutors  and 
governors  until  the  time  appointed  of  the  father.  Even  so  we, 
when  we  were  children,  were  in  bondage  under  the  elements  of  the 
world.  But  vfhen  the  fulness  of  time  was  come,  God  sent  forth 
His  Son,'  &c.  So  in  Romans  viii.  21,  the  'bondage  of  corruption ' 
seems  to  allude  to  the  subjection  of  the  Roman  son  to  his  earthly 
father. 

3.  In  the  Ejjistle  to  the  Galatians,  iii.  15,  we  read :  aSehpol, 
Kara  avdpUTTOv  Myu,  b/xug  avdpunov  KEKvpu/iEVT^v  diadijKTjv  ovSelg  dderel  r) 
eTTiSiaTacaerac,  where  the  apostle  declares  that  he  is  making  use  of 
an  illustration  from  secular  customs,  and  seems  to  refer  to  the 
Roman  law  of  wills,  according  to  which  the  testator,  after  certain 


222  NOTES. 

formalities  fulHUed,  could  neither  revoke  nor  alter  Ms  disposition 
of  his  i^roperty.  Thus  when  we  are  told  by  Suetonius  that  Caesar, 
and  subsequently  Augustus,  placed  their  testaments  in  the  hands 
of  the  Vestal  Virgins  {Jul.  83,  Oct.  101),  we  are  to  understand  that 
they  thereby  renounced  tlie  power  of  cancelling  or  adding  a  codicil 
to  them.  Comp.  Schleusner  in  voce  6tad?/K?/.  See  also  the  above- 
cited  passage  from  the  same  epistle,  iv.  1. 

Again,  in  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  there  seems  to  be  such  a 
reference  to  the  Roman  law  of  testation,  where,  however,  the 
writer  apparently  mixes  up  the  ideas  of  a  covenant  and  of  a  will. 
Heb.  ix.  15—17 :  koI  6ta  tovto  dcadZ/KT^g  Kaivijg  /iieai~?/c  eariv,  k.  t.  ?,.  He 
had  been  describing  Jesus  Christ  as  the  mediator  or  intennediate 
instrument  of  a  new  covenant,  6ia6//K7i,  as  opposed  to  the  old  cove- 
nant made  liy  God  with  Moses ;  but  he  goes  on  to  introduce  the 
idea  of  a  icill,  suggested  aj^parently  by  the  death  of  Christ,  the 
word  diadijKTj  having  the  double  signification  :  hirov  yap  diad)]K7j,  Oava- 
Tov  avayKTj  (pipEddai  rov  diaOefihov.  SiaQqKri  yap  enl  VEKpo'tQ  fiepaia,  knel  fi)) 
TTore  'iGxi'^i-  '^^'^  Cv  o  ^lade/xevoQ ;  which  Schleusner  explains  :  '  ut  testa- 
mentumratum  fiat  necesse  est  ut  mors  testatoris  probetur  judicial- 
itcr.  .  .  Sic  2^roferi'e,  ut  sit  2^'>'o'bare  cm'am  jud ice,  legitm-  nimd 
Cic.  pro  Rose.  Amer.  c.  S-t.'  This  forensic  use  here  of  the  word 
^ep£(y6ai  is  remarked  liy  Hammond,  and  is  generally  admitted. 

This  coincidence  in  the  nse  of  forensic  language  in  an  acknowl- 
edged epistle  of  St.  Paul's,  and  another  which,  must  at  least  be 
regarded  as  Pauline,  is  worth  remarking,  jjarticularly  when  we 
consider  how  peculiar  the  forms  of  testamentary  law  were  to  the 
Romans.  '  To  the  Romans,'  says  Mr.  Maine,  '  belongs  i^rceminently 
the  credit  of  inventing  the  will.  .  .  .  It  is  doubtful  whether 
a  true  power  of  testation  was  known  to  any  original  society  exce^jt 
the  Romans.  Rudimentary  forms  of  it  occur  here  and  there,  but 
most  of  them  are  not  exempt  from  the  suspicion  of  a  Roman 
origin.  The  Athenian  will  was,  no  doubt,  indigenous,  Init  then, 
as  will  appear  presently,  it  was  only  an  inchoate  testament    .    .    . 


NOTES.  223 

■Similarly  the  rudimcntarj-  testament  which  (as  I  am  informed)  the 
Rabbinical  Jewish  law  provides  for,  has  been  attributed  to  contact 
with  the  Romans.  .  .  .  The  original  institutions  of  Jews  have 
provided  nowhere  for  the  privileges  of  testatorship.'-^-^nc«en^  Lmc^ 
p.  194,  foil. 

3.  Upon  these  apparent  illustrations  from  the  Roman  law  I 
should,  however,  lay  little  stress,  wliere  they  not  confirmed  by  an 
unquestionable  reference  in  the  use  St.  Paul  makes  of  the  idea  of 
adoption.  The  spiritual  connection  of  the  true  disciple  with  God 
is  repeatedly  represented  to  us  under  the  figure  of  sonship.  This 
idea  is  brought  prominently  forward  by- St.  John;  as  in  1  iii.  1: 
\va  TEicva  deov  K?.7iduiu£v,  '  that  we  should  be  called,'  i.  e., '  should  be, 
sons  of  God.'  v.  9  :  6  yeyevvijiievoQ  ek  tov  deov.  v.  10  :  to,  reKvarov  deov. 
rv.  6  :  TTQf  6  ayarcuv  eii  deov  yeyevrj-ai ;  and  elsewhere.  But  whereas 
St.  John  always  represents  this  idea  in  its  simple  form,  St.  Paul, 
and  St.  Paul  only,  describes  this  sonship  more  artificially  as  adop- 
tive. This  view  is  set  forth  in  a  marked  manner  in  the  Epistle  to 
the  Romans,  viii.  14,  foil. :  '  As  many  as  are  led  by  the  Spirit  of  God, 
they  are  the  souS  of  God.  For  ye  have  not  received  the  spirit  of 
bondage  again  to  fear ;  but  ye  have  received  the  Spirit  of  adoption 
whereby  we  cry  Abba,  Father.  .  .  . ;  21 :  Because  the  creature 
itself  also  shall  be  delivered  from  the  bondage  of  corruption  into 
the  glorious  liberty  of  the  children  of  God.  For  we  know  that  the 
v;hole  creation  groaneth  and  travaileth  in  pain  together  until  now. 
And  not  only  they,  but  ourselves  also,  which  have  the  first  fruits 
of  the  Spirit,  even  we  ourselves  groan  within  ourselves,  waiting  for 
the  adoption,  to  wdt,  the  redemption  of  our  body.'  Now  this 
illustration  is  not  taken  from  any  Jewish  custom;  the  law  of 
Moses  contains  no  provision  for  such  a  ijractice,  nor  is  there  any 
indication  of  its  having  obtained  among  the  Jewish  people. 
Adoption  was  an  essentially  Roman  usage,  and  was  intimately 
connected  with  the  Roman  ideas  of  family.  The  maintenance  of 
the  sacra  jnivata,  the  domestic  rites  of  the  family,  was  regarded 


224 


NOTES. 


by  the  Eomans  as  a  matter  of  deep  political  importance,  and  tlieir 
law  accordingly  described  minutely  the  forms  under  which,  in 
default  of  natural  heirs,  the  paterflimilias  might  thus  jirospective- 
ly  secure  it.  The  son  was  considered  as  the  absolute  property  of 
his  father  from  his  birth  to  his  father's  decease.  In  order  to  his 
being  adojitcd  out  of  his  own  family  into  that  of  another  man,  it 
was  necessary  that  he  should  undergo  a  fictitious  sale.  But  if  a 
son  was  sold  by  his  father  and  recovered  his  liberty,  he  fell  again 
under  the  paternal  dominion,  and  it  was  not  Until  he  had  thua 
been  sold,  emanci^Mtus,  three  times,  that  he  was  finally  free  from 
this  paramount  authority.  Accordingly  the  adopter  required  that 
the  fiction  of  sale  should  be  repeated  three  times  before  he  could 
be  received  into  his  new  family  and  fall  under  the  dominion  of  his 
new  father.  When,  however,  these  formalities  had  been  complied 
with,  the  adojDted  son  became  incorporated  in  the  family  of  his 
adopter,  identified  as  it  were  with  his  person,  made  one  with  him ; 
so  that  on  the  decease  .of  the  adopter  he  became  not  so  much  his 
representative  as  the  peqoetuator  of  his  legal  existence.  He  assum- 
ed also,  on  adoption,  the  burdens  or  j^rivileges  incident  to  the 
performance  of  the  rites  of  his  new  family.  He  relinquished 
his  former  sacra,  and  attached  himself  to  those  of  his  new  jiarent. 
All  this  appears  to  have  been  in  the  aj^ostle's  mind  when  he 
addressed  the  Roman  disciples  in  the  i^assage  before  us.  The 
Spirit  of  God,  he  says,  bears  witness  with  our  sjiirit,  confers  ujjon 
us  an  inward  persuasion,  that  we  are  now,  by  adoption,  the 
children  of  God,  whereas  we  were  before  the  children  of  some 
other  father,  the  world,  or  the  Evil  One.  But  we  are  delivered 
from  the  bondage  of  corruption,  from  the  state  of  filial  subjection 
to  this  evil  parent,  and  admitted  to  the  glorious  liberty  of  the 
liaj)py  children  of  a  good  and  gracious  father,  even  God.  He  goes 
on  to  insist  on  the  hardness  of  the  bondage  of  the  son  of  a  bad 
father  (such  as  the  world),  his  sighing  and  groaning  for  the 
blessed  change  which  should  henceforth  ensue  to  him ;  such  an 


NOTES.  225 

expectation  or  hope  of  escape  as  may  often  have  been  felt  by  the 
victims  of  the  cruel  law  of  Rome,  and  wliich  is  here  likened  to  the 
holies  mankind  might  be  supposed  to  feel  of  an  escape  at  last  from 
their  bondage  to  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the  devil.  And  how 
was  this  escape  to  be  efiected  ?  God  paid  a  price  for  it.  As 
the  Roman  adopter  paid,  or  made  as  if  he  paid  down  copjDcr 
weighed  i^i  the  scale,  so  God  gave  His  Son  as  a  precious  sacrifice, 
as  a  ransom  to  the  world  or  the  Evil  One,  from  whom  He  redeem- 
ed His  adopted  children.  'He  spared  not  His  own  Son,  but 
delivered  Him  up  for  us  all.'  Henceforth  we  become  the  elect,  the 
chosen  of  God. 

The  same  illustration  is  indicated  in  a  passage  in  Galatians,  iv. 
3 :  '  When  we  were  children  we  were  in  bondage  under  the  ele- 
ments of  the  world,'  addicted  to  the  sacra  of  our  original  family ; 
'  but  when  the  fulness  of  the  time  was  come,  God  sent  forth  His 
Son  ...  to  redeem  them  that  were  under  the  law,  that  we 
might  receive  the  adoption  of  sons.  .  .  .  Howbeit,'  it  con- 
tinues, '  when  ye  knew  not  God,'  and  were  not  enrolled  in  this 
family,  '  ye  did  service  unto  them  which  by  nature  are  no  gods. 
But  now,  after  ye  have  known  God  .  .  .  how  turn  ye  again  to 
the  weak  and  beggarly  elements,'  such  as  the  sacra  of  your  former 
family,  'whereunto  ye  desire  to  be  again  in  bondage  ? ' 

The  '  adojition  of  children '  is  mentioned  again  in  Ephesians  i. 
5,  where  it  seems  to  point  to  a  recognised  custom.  Ephesus,  it 
may  be  remarked,  as  the  capital  of  the  province  and  the  residence 
of  a  proconsul's  court,  must  have  been  familiar  with  the  ordinary 
processes  of  the  Roman  civil  law. 

On  the  word  '  Adoption,'  the  writer  of  the  article  in  Smith's 
'  Dictionary  of  the  Bible '  says  :  '  St.  Paul  probably  alludes  to  the 
Roman  custom  of  adoption,  &c.  .  .  The  Jews  themselves  were 
unacquainted  with  the  process  of  adoption  ;  indeed,  it  would  have 
been  inconsistent  with  the  regulations  of  the  Mosaic  law  affecting 
the  inheritance  of  pro23erty.  The  instances  occasionally  adduced 
15 


22fi  NOTES. 

as  referring  to  tlie  customs  (Gen.  xv.  8,  xvi.  2,  xxx.  5-9)  are 
evidently  not  cases  of  adoption  proper.' 


Note  R,  page  101. 

There  seem  to  be  some  indications  in  the  Scripture  records  that 
St.  Paul  was  considered,  both  at  Rome  and  among  the  Romans 
and  the  governing  class  in  the  provinces,  as  a  person  of  some  social 
rank  and  distinction.  The  respect  with  which  he  is  treated  by 
Festus  and  Felix,  Agrijjpa  and  Gallio,  implies  that  the  rulers  in 
the  provinces  regarded  him  as  of  a  somewhat  different  stamp  from 
the  Jews,  the  mere  subject-provincials,  with  whom  he  had  con- 
nected himself  The  courteous  treatment  he  received  on  his 
voyage  to  Italy,  and  by  the  chief  men  of  the  island  of  Melita, 
accords  with  this  view  of  his  position.  The  consideration  extend- 
ed to  him,  apparently  beyond  his  expectation,  at  Rome ;  his  being 
allowed  to  dwell,  while  awaiting  the  judgment  which  he  had 
claimed  of  the  emperor  himself,  in  a  private  residence  under  the 
surveillance  of  the  police,  attests  the  same  consideration.  To  this 
may  be  added  the  fact,  which  it  seems  reasonable  to  admit,  that 
the  place  assigned  him  for  his  sojourn  was  within  the  precincts  of 
the  Imperial  quarters,  as  they  may  be  called,  on  the  Palatine  ;  and 
that  his  preaching  was  attended  by  the  Greek  and  Jewish  freed- 
men  attached  to  the  Imperial  household.  Even  before  his  arrival 
at  Rome  the  Church  of  Christ  in  the  city  comprised  members  of 
the  ujiper  class  of  freedmen,  that  is,  the  clients  and  dependents, 
often  prosperous,  wealthy,  and  accomplished,  of  noble  Roman 
houses.  They  '  of  the  household  of  Narcissus '  may  have  been  such 
dependents  of  the  celebrated  favourite  of  Claudius,  lately  dead,  a 
freedman  himself,  but  equal  in  wealth  and  i^osition  to  most  of  the 
old  patrician  heads  of  families.  Names  identical  with  those  of 
several  persons  included  in  St.  Paul's  salutations  to  disciples  at 
Rome,  such  as  Trypha^na,  Philologus,  Amplias,  Hennas,  have  been 


NOTES.  227 

found  amottg  tlie  sepulchral  inscriptions  in  the  columbaria  of  the 
Claudian  Cassars ;  and  it  is  difficult  to  resist  the  conjecture  that 
many  of  those  whom  the  apostle  addressed  as  recognised  members 
of  a  circle  of  devout  inquirers,  and  at  last  converts  to  the  Gospei 
at  Rome,  were  domestics  of  the  Imperial  palace.  So  a  little  later 
he  himself  sends  from  Rome  the  greetings  of  '  many  of  Csesar's 
household.'  The  curiosity  at  Rome  about  Jewish  opinions  and 
customs,  and  the  progress  they  had  made  there  among  the  Romans 
themselves,  as  well  as  among  resident  foreigners,  is  strikingly 
witnessed  in  the  literature  of  the  Augustan  age.  The  reaction 
against  them  after  the  great  revolt  in  Palestine,  is  strongly  marked 
in  the  change  of  tone  observable  in  Tacitus,  Juvenal,  and  Martial, 
as  compared  with  that  of  Ovid  and  Tibullus. 

Notwithstanding  the  persecutions  under  Nero  and  Domitian 
the  Gospel  continued,  I  believe,  to  attract  notice  in  high  quarters 
at  Rome ;  and  the  staid,  reserved,  and  almost  tame  character  of 
Roman  Christianity,  compared  with  its  more  salient  and  vigorous 
features  in  Greece,  in  Africa,  and  in  Egypt,  in  the  first  ages,  may 
perhaps  be  ascribed  to  an  early  and  continued  connection  with 
the  court  and  courtly  society.  The  curious  history  of  Callistus,  in 
the  reign  of  Commodus,  as  detailed  in  the  work  of  Hippolytus, 
seems  to  indicate  a  fatal  degeneracy  among  the  Roman  Christians, 
resulting  from  this  very  connection. 


Note  S,  page  108. 

It  is  common  among  the  freethinkers  of  modem  times  to  augur 
the  constant  moral  advance  of  society,  in  conformity  with  its 
advance  in  material  knowledge.  Impatient  at  the  slow  ijrogress 
they  observe  in  this  moral  movement,  they  are  tempted  to  im2Jute 
it  to  the  discouragement  which  the  Christian  teaching  throws, 
as  they  say,  upon  it.     They  accuse  Revelation  of  turning  men's 


228  NOTES. 

thoughts  backward  to  a  pretended  Paradise,  a  past  state  of 
original  bliss  which  can  never  be  regained  in  this  life.  Such,  they 
declare,  is  the  teaching  of  all  mythologies ;  the  fancy  of  a  golden 
age  deteriorating  to  a  silver,  a  brazen,  and  an  iron  age.  On  the 
other  hand,  Philosophy,  they  allege,  has  generally  taken  the 
opposite  view,  and,  tracing  mankind  back  to  its  cradle  in  the 
primeval  Past,  has  represented  it  as  developing,  advancing,  im- 
proving, from  them  till  now,  and  capable  of  indefinite  improve- 
ment in  the  illimitable  future.  Lucretius,  no  doubt,  in  a  well- 
known  passage  (v.  923  sqq.),  in  accordance  with  the  Ejjicurean 
denial  of  a  Providence,  does  so  trace  the  history  of  man  to  his  first 
crude,  barbarous  origin,  and  marks  the  various  stages  of  his 
material  and  moral  progress.  Nor  is  it  the  philosopher  only  who 
resorts  to  this  solution.  Many  of  the  mythological  legends  of 
classical  antiquity  point  to  a  belief  in  such  a  progressive  develop- 
ment, and  going  much  farther  back  than  Lucretius,  derive  man 
from  the  first  elements  of  nature,  from  animals,  from  birds,  from 
trees,  and  from  stones.  I  do  not  find,  however,  in  Lucretius,  any 
expectation  of  a  continuous  progress  hereafter.  With  him  morals, 
no  doubt,  as  well  as  arts,  'ad  summum  venerc  cacumen.'  The 
ancient  philosophers  held  that  the  species  had  fully  attained  the 
limits  of  its  progress.  They  admitted  the  existence  of  a  i^rincii^le 
of  evil  in  the  world,  which  leavened,  and  must  continue  to  leaven, 
the  mass  to  all  time,  and  keep  the  moral  world  at  least  at  a  stand- 
still, if  it  did  not,  according  to  the  common  persuasion  of  man- 
kind, gradually  corrupt  and  undermine  it  altogether.  The  com- 
mon opinion,  derived  neither  from  philosophers  nor  from  mythol- 
ogies, but  from  men's  personal  experience,  and  their  disappoint- 
ment at  the  constant  frustration  and  baffling  of  their  own  hopes 
and  efforts,  represented  man  as  ever  declining  from  the  height  to 
which  he  had  by  some  happy  providence  attained,  and  gliding  down 
a  fatal  incline  to  an  ever  worsening  Future.  The  sentiments  of 
Virgil  and  Horace,  '  omnia  fatis  in  pejus  ruerc ; '  '  a;tas  parentuni 


NOTES.  229 

pejor  avis,'  &c.,  scorn  to  inc  fully  borne  out  by  the  general  feeling 
of  antiquity  at  the  period  of  its  highest  moral  and  material  attain- 
ments. If,  indeed,  we  have  more  sanguine  aspirations  in  our 
modem  schools  of  thought,  it  is  to  the  teaching  of  Christianity 
itself  that  we  mainly  owe  them.  For  Christianity  first  led  men  to 
look  steadfastly  to  the  future,  and  to  hope  for  the  attainment  of 
consummate  perfection  hereafter  through  gradual,  and  feeble,  and 
imperfect  attempts  at  improvement  here.  The  theory  of  Chris- 
tianity is  the  most  temperate,  the  most  modest,  and,  as  far  as 
appearances  have  hitherto  gone,  the  truest  theory  of  moral 
development. 

The  later  Greek  philosophy  is  distinguished  by  its  ever- 
deepening  sense  of  the  universality,  and  the  real  evil  of  sin.  '  We 
have  already  seen,'  says  Dollinger  (Gentile  and  Jeic^  ii.  153,  Engl, 
trans.),  '  what  a  close  coimection  there  was  between  the  defective 
knowledge  which  the  old  philosophy  had  of  human  freedom  and 
of  the  nature  of  evil,  with  the  relation  in  which  the  Deity  stood  to 
both.  These  thinkers  were  wanting  in  an  insight  into  the  nature 
and  conditions  of  the  personality  of  God  as  well  as  of  men ;  and 
therefore  looked  ujion  evil  as  partly  resulting  from  mere  defective- 
ness or  infirmity  of  means  of  knowledge ;  they  set  it  down  to 
ignorance,  and  thought,  accordingly,  there  was  no  other  or  higher 
remedy  than  philosophy.  And  jjartly  from  not  distinguishing 
between  the  physical  evil  and  the  moral  bad,  they  charged  matter 
and  its  natural  repugnance  to  the  intellectual  with  being  the 
source  of  the  bad.  Hence,  the  idea  of  sin  was  in  fact  strange  to 
them ;  they  had  no  perception  how  a  free  act  of  evil  done  by  the 
creature  bore  upon  divine  holiness  and  justice.  In  fine,  the  Stoics 
had  further  obscured  this  important  question  by  their  theory  that 
evil  was  as  absolutely  necessary  in  the  order  of  the  world  as  the 
shadow  is  to  the  light,  and  that  all  evil  was  equal.  They  raised 
man  above  all  responsibility  and  account,  and  represented  him 
as  without  freedom,  the  irresistibly  -determined  tool  of  destiny. 


230  NOTES. 

Even  the  Emperor  Marcus  Aurelius,  with  his  mild  temj)erament, 
Ibuud  a  complete  justification  herein  for  the  greatest  criminal.  A 
man  of  a  certain  nature  can  do  nothing  else  but  act  viciously.  To 
make  him  responsible  for  his  actions  would  be  on  a  jiar  with 
pmiishiug  another  for  ha\'ing  bad  breath,  or  bidding  a  fig-tree 
bear  anything  besides  figs.  It  was  utterly  impossible  for  vicious 
men  to  act  otherwise  than  we  see  them  act,  and  to  demand 
impossibilities  is  folly. 

'  This  view  of  evil  was  expressly  combated  by  Platonists  like 
Plutarch.  Evil  had  not  come  into  the  world  like  an  episode, 
pleasant  and  acceptable  to  the  Deity ;  it  filled  every  human  thing. 
The  whole  of  life,  equally  stained  from  its  opening  to  its  concluding 
scene,  was  a  mass  of  errors  and  misfortune,  and  in  no  part  pure  and 
blameless.  "  No  one,"  he  said,  "  is  sober  enough  for  virtue ;  but 
we  all  of  us  are  unseemly  and  in  unblest  confusion."  This  severe 
notion  of  evil,  its  universality  in  the  life  of  man,  and  the  deep 
roots  it  had  struck  in  his  nature,  is  a  characteristic  of  thinkers  of 
this  period.  "We  meet  with  similar  expressions  in  Seneca,  to  the 
effect  that  not  a  man  will  be  found  who  does  not  sin,  has  not 
sinned,  and  will  not  continue  sinning  to  his  dying  hour.  Galen,  a 
physician,  and  at  the  same  time  one  of  the  acutest  of  the  philos- 
ophers of  this  latter  time,  went  farther  still.  He  declared  the 
dispositions  of  children  to  evil  to  be  in  excess,  and  thought  that 
only  by  little  and  little  the  disposition  to  good  got  the  upper 
hand,  the  more  the  intelligent  soul  got  the  mastery  over  the  two 
others,  for  he  adopted  wdth  Plato  a  "  threefold  division  of  the 
soul." 

'  The  solution  of  the  problem  of  the  origin  of  evil  appeared  all 
the  more  difficult  now.  All  did  not  accei^t  the  comfortable 
expedient  of  Platonists  like  Celsus,  of  its  having  sprung  from 
matter  in  existence  from  eternity  ;  or,  like  Plutarch,  who  accepted 
an  evil  and  eternal  world-soul,  and  an  unintelligent  element  of 
essential   evil  in  the  soul  of  man.     j^aximus  of  Tyre,  therefore, 


NOTES.  231 

thought  that  Alexauder,  instead  of  consulting  the  oracle  ol 
Ammon  about  the  sources  of  the  Nile,  should  rather  have  put  a 
question  of  imiDortance  to  humanity  generally,  namely,  that  of  the 
origin  of  evil.  He  then  made  an  attempt  of  his  own  at  a  solution, 
which  only  ended  again  in  placing  the  seat, and  fount  of  all  evil  in 
matter.  (M.  Anton.,  Medit.  ix.  1 ;  x.  30 ;  viii.  14 ;  v.  28.  Plutarch, 
Adv.  Stoic.  14.  Senec.  de  Clement,  i.  6.  Maximus  Tyr.  Diss.  xli. 
p.  487  seq.)' 


Note  T,  page  111. 

After  describing  the  rebellious  attitude  of  the  Stoic  philoso- 
phy towards  the  Caesars,  and  the  measures  of  the  government  to 
control  it,  M.  Denis  says  {Idees  Morales.,  vol.  ii.  j).  62  foil. : — '  Le 
Stoicisme  grandit  dans  cette  lutte  de  I'csprit  contre  la  force  bru- 
tale.  II  devint  une  foi  ardente  et  vigoureuse,  une  sorte  de  religion 
des  grandes  Times,  qui  eut  ses  devots  et  ses  martyrs.  .  .  .  De 
IS  les  caract&res  nouveaux  du  Stoicisme ;  le  ton  de  la  predication 
remi3la9ant  la  discussion  philosophique,  une  science  jusqu'alors 
inconnue  de  la  vie,  et  im  art  singulier  de  demeler  les  jdIus  obscurs 
sophismes  du  vice  et  de  la  faiblesse,  mais  j)ar-dessus  une  austfere 
tendresse  pour  Thumanite.  Le  philosophe  n'est  plus  vni  logicien 
qui  dispute,  ui  un  beau  parleur,  qui  chercbe  les  applaudissements. 
C'cst  un  maitre  qui  enseigne ;  c'est  uu  censeur  i^ublic,  charge  dn 
soin  des  consciences ;  c'est  un  temoin  de  Dieu,  qui  ne  doit  aux 
hommes  que  la  v^ritg.  .  .  .  II  ne  faut  pas  chercher  dans  ces 
l^hilosophes  de  profonds  et  subtils  raisonnements,  mais  des  con- 
seils  affectueux  ou  s6vferes,  des  remontrances,  des  exhortations,  et 
d'instantes  priferes  de  se  convertir  il  la  vertu  et  S  la  loi  de 
Dieu.     .     .' 


232  NOTES. 


Note  U,  page  1 14. 

Ejiictet.  Dissertat.  iv.  c.  8  :  'Avdpuire,  x^LiiacjuTjaov  irpurov  •  Idov  cov 
rfp)  op^ijv  .  .  .  ayvoeicdat  fiE?i,ET?jaov  irpurov  rig  el  •  cavT(J  (pi?M<j6^7j(Jov 
bTiiyov  xp^vov.  Ovtu  Kapir-bc  yivErat  •  KaTopvyijvai  6el  tTzi  riva  xP^vov  to 
airepfia,  Kpv^d^vat,  Kara  /iiKpbv  av^rjdTJvai,  Iva  Te7ieG(poprjOi)  .  .  .  toiovtov 
el  Kul  av  (pvrdpiov.  Quttov  rov  dtovTog  i^vdfiKac,  anoKavaec  ce  6  x^'-l^^'^- 
K.  T.  2.  .  .  .  c.  10.  'Ayadog  uv  aivodavy,  yevvacav  npa^iv  ETViTe'kuv  •  enel 
yap  6eI  Travrug  aKodavElv^  avajKr]  tI  ttote  Tzotovvra  evpedrjvaL  .  .  ,  ri  ovv 
deTkEig  TTOiuv  evpeOijvai  vno  rov  Oavdrov  ;  'Eyw  ^ev,  to  e/ibv  fiepog,  epyov  Ti 
■kot'  dvOpuTTiKov,  evepyeTtKov,  KOivu^eXeg^  yevvaiov.  ...  c.  12.  Ti  ovv ; 
dvvaTov  dvafidpTijTov  f,6rj  elvai ;  'Aiirjxavov  •  dTiTJ  ekeIvo  Swotov,  npbg  to 
firj  dfiaprdvEiv  reTaadai  SiJjveKiJg.  .  .  .  Nvv  6'  oTav  elnyg,  'Att'  avpiov 
rpoae^o)  •  ladi  oti  tovto  Xeyeig,  IrjjiEpov  eaonai  dVaicxwTog,  aKaipog, 
TOTTEivSg.   .    .    .   B/leTre,  boa  KaKa  aeavTcJ  eTriTpiKEig.  k.  t.  /I. 

Seneca,  Epist.  xciv.  53 :  Nonne  apparet  nobis  opus  esse  aliqiio 
advocato,  qui  contra  populi  prajcei^ta  praecipiat  ?  Nulla  ad  nos- 
tras aures  vox  impune  perfertur :  nocent  qui  optant,  nocent  qui 
exsecrantur.  Nam  et  liorum  imprecatio  falsos  nobis  mctus  inserit, 
et  illorum  amor  male  docct  bene  ojitando  .  .  .  Non  licet,  inquam, 
ire  recta  via :  trail unt  in  pravum  j^arentes,  trabunt  servi :  nemo 
errat  uui  sibi,  sed  dementiam  spargit  in  proximos,  acciijitque  in- 
vicem.  Et  ideo  in  singulis  vitia  populorum  sunt,  quia  ilia  popu- 
lus  dedit.  Dum  facit  quisque  j)ejorem,  foetus  est.  Didicit  dcte- 
riora,  deinde  docuit ;  effectaque  est  ingens  ilia  ncquitia,  congesto 
in  unum,  quod  cuique  jiessimum  scitur.  Sit  ergo  aliquis  custos, 
et  aurem  subinde  pervellat,  abigatque  rumores,  et  i-celamet  popu- 
lis  laudantibus.  Erras  enim  si  existimas  nobiscum  vitia  nasei ; 
supervencrunt,  ingesta  sunt.  Itaque  mouitiouibus  crebris  oisiniones 
quaj  nos  circumsonant  comiiescamus.  Nulli  nos  vitio  natura  con- 
ciliat ;  nos  ilia  integros  ac  liberos  genuit Itaque  si  in  me- 
dio urbium  fremitu  collocati  sumus,  slot  ad  latus  monitor,  et  con- 


N0TL8.  233 

tra  laudatores  ingentium  ijatrimoniorum  laudet  j)arvo  divitem,  et 
usu  opes  metientem,  &c. 

M.  Antoninus,  Meditat.  vi.  30 :  "Opa  jiii  airoKataapudiJc,  /«')  /3a0K ' 
yiverai  yap  •  rijpijaov  ovv  aeavrbv  dnAolv^  ayadov,  uKepaiov,  cejivov,  aKOjiipov, 
Tov  diKaiov  ^iXov,  deoaejiT},  evjJLevTJ,  <l>cMaTopjov,  eppu/ihov  irpb^  to.  Tzpinovra 
ipya .  dyuviaat,  'iva  Toiovrog  cvfifieivijc,  olov  ce  rjdeXrjce  -KOLfjaai  ^ikoaQ(^ia . 
aldov  deovQ,  cwfe  avdpdnrovQ .  (3paxvc  6  jiiog.  e'tg  Kapnog  TJjg  kniydov  ^uf/g, 
diademg  oaia,  Koi  Tzpa^eig  KOivuviKai .  navra,  cjg  'Avtuv'iv  ov  nadTjvijg.  .  .  . 
K.  T,  /I. 

Plutarch,  De  coMlenda  ira,  2,  reports  the  saying  of  Musonius 
Rufus :  Kal  fii/v  uv  ye  fiE/ivf/fieda  Movauvlcv  kuTicjv  ev  tartv  .  .  .  to  iSeiv 
ael  ■depaTcevoiiEvovg  jiiovv  rovg  cu^eodac  ftiTi^ovrag.  Ov  yap  ug  £?i?l[iopov, 
olpai,  6el  depaTcevcavra  cweK<p£pEiv  rui  voaf/fiaTt  tov  loyov,  akV  kfi/iEvovTa 
Ty  tpi'xy,  avvEX^i"^  ™?  Kpicetg  Kal  <pv?idG(7Eiv.  k.  r.  Z. 

The  gravity  of  this  sage's  teaching  is  further  indicated  by 
Aulus  Gellius,  Met.  Att.  v.  1 :  Musonium  philosophum  solitum 
dicere  accepimus :  Quvim  philosophus,  inquit,  hortatur,  monet, 
suadet,  objurgat,  aliudve  quid  disciplinarum  disserit;  turn,  qui 
audiunt,  si  summo  et  sokito  j)ectore  obvias  vulgatasque  laudes  ef- 
futiunt,  si  clamitant  etiam,  si  vocum  ejus  festivitatibus,  si  modulis 
verborum,  si  quibusdam  quasi  frequentamentis  orationis  moventur, 
exagitantur  et  gestiunt ;  turn  scias  et  qui  dicit  et  qui  audit  frustra 
esse :  neque  illic  philosophum  loqui,  sed  tibicinem  canere.  Ani- 
mus is,  inquit,  audientis  philosophum,  si,  quse  dicuntur,  utilia  ac 
salubria  sunt,  et  errorum  atque  vitiorum  medicinas  ferunt,  laxa- 
mentum  atque  otium  j^i'olixe  profuseque  laudandi  non  habet: 
quisquis  ille  est  qui  audit,  nisi  ille  est  plane  deperditus,  inter  ip- 
gam  philosophi  orationem  et  perhorrescat  necesse  est,  et  jDudeat 
tacitus,  et  poeniteat  et  gaudeat  et  admiretur :  (seqq.) 


234  jvoTES. 


Note  V,  page  115. 

Seneca,  Epist.  xlviii.  G,  7,  8 :  Vis  scire  quid  philosoj)hia  pro- 
mittat  generi  humano  ?  Consilium.  Alium  mors  vocat,  alium 
pauj^ertas  urit,  alium  divitise  vel  aliense  torquent,  vel  suae :  ille  ma- 
lam  fortunam  horret,  hie  se  felicitati  suse  subducere  cupit :  bunc 
homines  male  habent,  ilium  Dii.  Quid  mihi  lusoria  ista  proponis  ? 
Non  est  jocandi  locus ;  ad  miseros  advocatus  es.  Opem  te  latu- 
rum  naufragis,  captis,  regris,  egentibus,  intentse  securi  subjectum 
praestantibus  caput  pollicitus  es :  quo  diverteris  ?  quid  agis  ?  hie 
cum  quo  ludis,  timet.  Succurre :  quid  quod  laqueati  despondent : 
in  pcenis  omnes  undique  ad  te  manus  tendunt,  perditai  vitse,  peri- 
turaeque  auxilium  aliquod  implorant,  in  te  spes  opesque  sunt. 
Rogant  ut  ex  tanta  illos  volutatione  extrahas,  ut  disjeetis  et  erran- 
tibus  clarum  veritatis  lumen  ostendas.  Die,  quid  Natura  necessa- 
rium  fecerit,  quid  supervaeuum,  quam  faciles  leges  posuerit ;  quam 
jucunda  sit  vita,  quam  expedita,  illas  sequcntibus ;  quam  acerba 
et  implicita  corum,  qui  opinioni  plus  quam  naturae  crediderunt. 


Note  W,  page  119. 

DoUinger,  Gentile  and  Jeio,  ii.  148  (Engl,  transl.)  :— '  Since  the 
middle  of  the  first  century  after  Christ,  a  growing  prominence  was 
observable  in  the  return  to  a  more  believing  disposition.  One 
feels  that  a  great  change  has  taken  jjlace  in  the  intellectual  at- 
mosiJhere  when  one  compares  Polybius,  Strabo,  Diodorus,  and 
Dionysius  with  Plutarch,  Aristides,  Maximus  of  Tyre,  and  Dion 
Chrysostom.' 

M.  Martha  has  given  a  sketch  of  the  Soj^hists  of  the  second 
century,  and  of  the  character  and  teaching  of  Dion  Chrysostom 
as  their  representative,  from  which  I  quote  a  paragraph  in  illus- 


NOTES.  235 

tration  of  the  views  advanced  in  tlie  text  {Revue  Conteviporaine, 
tome  xxxi.  p.  246.     1857)  :— 

'  Pamii  ces  orateurs  qui  remplissaient  le  monde  de  leur  parole 
et  de  leur  gloire,  il  en  est  un  jjetit  nombre  qui  ont  fait  de  Felo- 
qucnce  un  noble  usage  en  rgpandant  partout  les  prgceptes  de  la 
morale.  II  faut  remarquer  ici  qu'aux  plus  tristes  epoques  de 
I'histoire  ancienne,  c'est  la  pliilosopliie  seule  qui  souticnt  encore 
les  esprits,  les  ames,  et  rgsiste  3;  cette  lente  degradation  morale  qui 
menace  de  tout  envahir.  Pendant  que  la  politique  est  impuissante, 
que  les  princes  ne  peuvcnt  rien  ou  ne  tentent  rien  pour  relever  les 
mceurs,  pendant  que  le  monde  se  plonge  de  plus  en  plus  dans  la 
corruption  ou  s'amuse  a;  des  futilities  sojjliistiques,  quelques  philo- 
so2)bes,  a  la  faveur  de  ces  usages  qui  permettaient  au  premier  venu 
de  prendre  la  parole  dans  les  assemblies,  se  glissent  au  milieu  de 
la  foule  tumultueuse  et  font  entendre,  non  sans  pgril  parfois, 
quelques  le9ons  de  sagesse.  C'est  la  pliilosopliie  qui  est  la  derni^re 
gardienne  de  la  raison  et  de  la  dignity  dans  les  soci6t6s  antiques. 
Elle  survit  aux  lois,  aux  institutions,  aux  moeurs;  elle  Scliappe 
raeme  a  la  tyrannic,  parce  qu'elle  peut  se  r^fugier  dans  I'invisible 
sanctuaire  d'un  coeur  lionnete.  La  matiSre  ne  lui  manque  jamais, 
puisque,  I'Sme  humaine  gtant  le  sujet  de  ses  6tudes,  elle  porte  avec 
soi  Fobjet  de  ses  meditations.  Bien  plus,  le  mallieur  du  temps  ne 
fait  souvent  que  raviver  sa  force,  la  corruption  des  mceurs  I'irrite, 
la  degradation  des  caractferes  I'anime  d'une  ardeur  plus  gen6reuse, 
et  la  vue  de  la  servility  lui  fait  sentir  tout  le  prix  de  la  libertS 
intSrieure.  Aussi  ne  faut-il  s'ctonner  si  les  derniferes  paroles 
sensSes,  raisonnables,  eioquentes,  sortent  de  la  bouclie  des  jilii- 
losophes. 

'  Cependant  il  faut  reconnaitre  que  I'enseignement  pliiloso- 
phique  Stait  bien  dScliu.  II  s'est  fait  simijle  et  modeste,  et,  re- 
non9ant  aux  grandes  idSes  et  aux  problfemes  savants  qu'il  agitait 
autrefois,  il  ne  donne  plus  que  des  preceptes  de  couduite.  Ce 
n'est  i)lus  le  temps  ou  de  puissantes  Scoles  etablissaient,  chacune  S 


236  NOTES. 

Sea  maui&re,  les  regies  cle  la  morale,  et  fondaieut  dc  vastcs  systfemea 
dont  les  principes  et  les  consequences  6taient  dffendus  avec  une 
sorte  de  foi  jalouse.  Les  liautes  etudes  de  la  philosopliie  se  sont 
affaiblies  ;  on  n'aime  plus  les  reclierches  abstraites  ni  les  deductions 
rigoureuses,  et  meme  on  pent  dire  que  les  disciples  ne  comprennent 
plus  la  parole  du  maitrc.  Les  doctrines  rivales  de  Platen, 
d'Aristote,  de  Zenon,  d'£picure,  qui  alors  se  partageut  les  esprits,  se 
sont  fait  tant  d'emprunts  et  d  econcessions  r^ciproques  qu'on  a  de  la 
peine  a  distinguer,  dans  les  ouvrages  du  temps,  ce  qui  ajipartient 
aux  unes  et  aux  autres.  Les  philosophes  se  disent  encore  de  telle 
ou  telle  gcole,  ils  en  portent  le  uoni  et  souvent  le  costume,  mais  ils 
ne  s'ai)ercoivent  pas  qu'ils  sont  infideles  a  la  doctrine  qu'ils  ense- 
gnent.  Celui-ci  se  croit  Stoicien  et  adopte  les  id^cs  de  Platon  sur 
I'ame  et  I'immortalitg ;  celui-lti,  voulant  s'^loigner  un  pen  des 
s^verites  du  Portique,  glisse  a  son  iusu  dans  les  mollcs  delices 
d'£i)icure.  Tons  ces  compromis  et  ces  transactions  entre  les 
diverses  gcoles  am^nent  le  discredit  de  la  philosopliie  dogmatique. 
Quand  les  doctrines  ne  s'affirment  jias  fortcnient  elles-memes, 
quancl  elles  ne  sont  pas  exclusives,  quand  elles  practisent  avec 
Tcnnemi,  elles  ne  peuvent  plus  compter  sur  des  adeptes  devours. 
Aussi,  soit  afFaiblissemcnt  gSngral  des  etudes,  soit  indiftercnce,  soit 
tolerance  excessive,  presque  tons  les  bons  esprits  de  ce  sitcle 
s'abstiennent  de  traiter  les  liautes  questions  de  la  m6tapliysique  et 
de  la  morale,  ou  s'ils  les  tentent  quelquefois,  ils  confondent  tons 
les  syst^mes,  et  ne  laissent  voir  trop  souvent  que  leur  legi^rete  et 
leur  ignorance.  La  philosopliie  aspire  a  devcnir  populaire,  elle 
s'abaisse,  elle  se  fait  toutc  a  tous,  et  pour  etre  comprise  et  acceptSe, 
elle  puise  ses  idees  non  plus  ii  la  source  Clevec  du  dogme,  niais 
dana  le  reservoir  commun  qu'on  appelle  le  bon  sens  public  ;  elle  se 
rapproche  de  plus  en  plus  de  la  pratique,  ct  se  contente  de  donner 
des  prescriptions  salutaires  et  incontestables,  qu'elle  r^dige  en 
maximes  et  qu'elle  dScore  d'ornemcnts  littSraires.  De  la.  une 
nouvelle  esp^ce  d'61oqucncc  qui  n'cst  pas  sans  jiortCe  ni  sans  m6- 


NOTES.  237 

rite,  celle  de  ccs  orateurs  pliilosoplies  qu'oii   aijpclle   aussi  dcs 
sophistes,  et  qui  seraieut  dignes  d'uu  nom  plus  honorable." 

Of  these  preaching  philosophers,  the  most  eminent  are  Apol- 
lonius  of  Tyana,  and  Dion  Chrysostom.  The  career  of  the  latter, 
as  an  itinerant  preacher  of  moral  truths,  may  be  traced  in  his  own 
genuine  ■u'ritiugs.  We  may  infer  nearly  the  same  of  AjDollonius 
from  various  sources,  but  his  reputed  biography  by  Philostratus  is 
a  work  of  more  than  a  century  later,  and  is  evidently  fabricated 
for  a  jjolemical  purpose.  It  represents  its  hero  as  a  heathen 
counterpart  to  Christ,  and  is  valuable  to  us,  as  showing  the 
impression  made  upon  the  heathen  mind  by  the  portraiture  of  our 
Lord,  and  after  Him  of  His  Apostles,  as  '  going  about  doing  good.' 
The  points  of  evident  imitation  of  the  Gospel  histoiy  in  the  '  Life 
of  Apollonius'  are  given  in  full  detail  by  M.  Pressensg,  Hist,  des 
Trois  Pi'emiers  Siecles,  2e  partie,  tome  ii.  p.  145  foil.  The  Lives  of 
the  Sophists  by  Philostratus  and  Eunaj)ius  discover  to  us  a  whole 
class  of  such  itinerant  preachers  among  the  heathen  philosophers 
of  the  second  century.  Others  of  a  similar  school  of  moral  teach- 
ing fixed  themselves  in  the  great  universities  of  the  empire,  or 
passed  their  lives  in  private  retirement.  The  exi)ression  quoted  in 
the  text  was  that  of  Demonax,  commemorated  by  Lucian : — 
'A67}vaio)v  6e  CKerTTonEvuv  Kara  C.rj'Xov  tov  npo^  KopivOlovc  KaraGT/jcacOai 
6eav  [lovoiidxuv,  izpoceWup  e\q  avrovg,  fi^  irpSrepov,  e^?/,  ravra,  w  'Ad?}vaioi 
i(>7)^iGE(jde,  av  fi7)  TOV  ileov  tov  fiujibv  KadelrjTe.  A  similar  sarcasm  is 
attributed  also  to  Apollonius.  The  sentiment  was  perhaps  com- 
mon to  many.  Demonax  is  said  also  to  have  quelled  a  tumult  in 
Athens  by  the  authority  of  his  jjresence.  'LTdaeu^  de  ttots  'Adijvtjai. 
■yevojikvTjQ  e'laf/Wev  eJf  ti/v  eKKlrjciav,  kuI  ^aveig  fi6vov  murrav  kiroirjoev 
avTo'vQ ;  6  df,  i6u7j  7^67/  fieTeyvuKdTag,  ovdev  elrruv  Koi  aiiTlg  b.TCTjk'ka.yri. — i 
Lucian,  Demonax.,  57,  64. 


238  NOTES. 


Note  X,  page  120. 

Denis,  Idees  Morales,  ii.  p.  154: — 'Le  Stoicisme  ne  s'arr^tait 
point  la :  ft  la  tla^orie  de  la  justice  universelle,  ou  de  I'egalite  des 
hommes  ct  de  I'unitg  de  notre  espfecc,  il  ajoutait  celle  de  I'univer- 
selle  cliaritc.'  The  writer  proceeds  to  give  a  full  exposition  of 
this  thesis,  pp.  154-190.  The  doctrines  and  practice  of  Pagan 
philanthropy,  at  their  best  and  highest,  fall  far  below  the  standard 
of  the  teaching  and  the  practice  of  Chiistian  communities.  Never- 
theless, they  deserve  to  be  noted  in  token  of  the  purifying  effect 
of  that  consciousness  of  moral  infirmity  which  entered,  as  I  believe, 
so  deeply  into  the  minds  of  the  heathen,  in  the  second  and  third 
centuries.  Cicero's  slight  mention  of  his  father's  death  in  a  letter 
to  Atticus — '  Pater  nobis  decessit  a.d.  viii.  Kal.  Dec'  {Ad  Att.  i. 
6) — is  often  quoted  as  an  instance  of  the  hardness  of  feeling 
engendered  by  habit  and  system  among  the  Pagans  in  the  palmiest 
days  of  their  philosojihy.  Considering  how  scanty  are  the  traces 
of  more  humane  sentiment  in  respect  of  natural  ties  among  the 
Romans  of  that  age,  we  may  be  justified  in  so  quoting  it.  But  it 
is  interesting  to  contrast  with  it  the  tribute  of  refined  and  cul- 
tivated affection  which  Statius,  a  hundred  and  fifty  years  later, 
pays  to  his  deceased  parent : — 

Quid  referam  expositos  servato  poudero  mores ; 
Quae  pietas,  quam  vile  lucrum  ;  quae  cura  pudoris, 
Quantus  amor  recti ;  rursusque,  ubi  dnlce  remitti. 
Gratia  quae  vultus,  animo  quam  nulla  senectus  'i 

The  poet  continues,  indeed,  to  ex^mtiate  on  the  theme  witn  a 
too  elaborate  rhetoric,  which  has  cast  suspicion  on  the  genuineness 
of  his  feelings.  But,  however  this  may  be,  it  is  not  to  the  feelings 
of  Statius  himself,  but  to  the  feelings  of  the  age,  which  demanded 


jsroTES.  239 

or  eacouraged  such  a  manifestation,  that  I  principally  look. 
Comp.  Statins,  Sylv.  iii.  3,  12,  and  foil. 

There  is  another  passage  in  Cicero's  letters,  often  cited,  in 
which  he  checks  himself  for  the  sorrow  he  cannot  help  experienc- 
ing on  the  death  of  a  confidential  and  favourite  slave,  the  com- 
panion of  his  studies,  and  j)artaker  iu  his  philosophical  sjjecula- 
tions ;  and  this  is  contrasted  with  the  more  natural  and  liberal 
flow  of  sentiment  in  which  the  younger  Pliny  allows  himself  to 
indulge  on  a  somewhat  similar  loss.  But  Statius,  again,  with 
deeper  and  kindlier  feeling,  allows  to  the  favourite  slave  of  his 
friend  a  place  in  Elysium,  and  is  not  ashamed  to  suggest  that  he 
may  there  watch  over  the  interests  of  his  master  surviving  him  on 
earth.  How  great  a  step  in  humanity  has  been  made  from  the 
cold  exclusiveness  of  the  Platonists  and  the  Stoics,  even  in  the 
most  genial  of  their  respective  representatives,  a  Virgil  and  a 
Lucan ! 

Statius,  Sylv.  ii.  6 : — 

Scepe  ille  volcntem 
Castigabat  henim,  studioque  altisque  juvabat 

Consiliis Subit  ille  pios,  carpitque  quietem 

Elysiam 

Pone,  precor,  questus ;  alium  tibi  fata  Philetum, 
Forsan  et  ipse  dabit ;  moresque  habitusque  decoros 
•Monstrabit  gaudens,  similemque  docebit  amorem. 

Note  Y,  page  133. 

Seneca,  as  quoted  by  St.  Augustine,  De  Civ.  Dei,  vi.  11,  had 
said  of  the  Jews :  Cum  interim  usque  eo  sceleratissimse  gentis 
consuetudo  convaluit,  ut  per  omnes  jam  terras  recepta  sit,  victi 
victoribus  leges  dederunt.  He  was  speaking,  it  seems,  of  the 
sacrumenta,  or  mysterious  rites  and  customs  of  this  people;  and 


240  NOTES. 

from  the  context  it  appears  plainly  that  he  had  more  paiiicularly 
in  view  the  Jewish  observation  of  the  Sabbath.  We  learn  from 
Ovid  and  Tibullus  how  much  remark  this  usage  liad  excited  among 
the  Romans,  and  with  what  favour  it  was  regarded  by  them.  The 
socialist  Proudhon  has  written  a  book  to  recommend  it  on  i^urely 
economical  grounds,  and  I  can  easily  imagine  a  practical  people, 
like  the  Romans,  being  struck  with  the  good  policy  of  such  an 
institution.  At  a  later  period,  when  the  Jews  had  fallen  out  of 
favour  at  Rome,  their  Sabbaths  are  made  the  subject  of  scorn 
and  ridicule. 

» 

Note  Z,  page  134. 

Denis,  Idees  Morales,  ii.  234  foil. : — '  Mais  ce  qui  nous  semble 
nouveau,  ce  qu'on  ne  retrouverait  pas  au  m^me  degre  dans  Chry- 
sippe,  dans  ClSanthe,  ni  dans  Platon,  c'est  la  pensfie  toujours  jirS- 
sente  de  la  Providence,  et  de  la  bontS  divine,  c'est  le  sentiment  de 
ferveur  et  de  foi,  qui  anime  dcs  amcs  fortes  ef  tendrcs,  telles 
qu'£pict&te  et  Marc-Aurfele.  Dieu  n'cst  j)as  seulement  pour  les 
sages  de  I'empire  I'auteur  et  le  maitre  de  I'univers,  la  loi  qui  con- 
duit toutes  choses  au  bien,  la  sagessc  qui  a  tout  fait  avec  nomln-c, 
poids  et  mesure :  c'est  avant  tout  un  pere  bienveillant,  un  ami 
toujours  sur  et  fidfele,  le  refuge  et  la  consolation  qui  ne  mauqucnt 
jamais  ii  I'honnSte  homme.  "  Qu'aurais-je  it  fiire,"  dit  Marc- 
Aurfele,  "  d'un  monde  sans  providence  et  sans  dieux  ? "  Dieu  est 
bon ;  il  a  done  ordonng  toutes  choses  selon  sa  bonte,  et  par  conse- 
quent dans  I'intgrSt  dernier  de  la  vertu.  .  .  .  "  Traitez-moi, 
Seigneur,  it  votre  volonti?,  s'gcrie  Epict^te,  conduiscz-moi  o^X  il 
vous  plaira,  couvrez-moi  de  I'habit  que  vous  voudrez,  je  suis  r(i- 
signg  a  vos  lois,  et  votre  volontC  est  la  mienne.  En  toutes  choses 
je  cSlSbrerai  vos  reuvrcs  et  vos  bicnfaits,  et  je  serai  votre  tCmoin 
aupr^s  des  mortels,  en  leur  montrant  ce  que  c'est  qu'un  homme  ve- 
ritable."    .     .     Cctte  humilite  de  Marc-AurMe  et  d'Epiett^te  est 


NOTES.  241 

toute  morale.  Elle  n'a  rien  cle  ce  sentiment  servile  et  supersti- 
tieux,  qui  nous  fait  voir  dans  un  accident  un  coup  de  la  Provi- 
dence, et  qui  prSte  S  Dieu  je  ne  sais  quelle  jalousie  par  laquelle  il 

se  plait  it  renverser  ce  qui  s'Slfeve,  A  exalter  ce  qui  s'abaisse 

Si  nous  sommes  si  faiblcs,  il  semble  naturel  que  nous  priions  Dieu, 
soit  pour  le  remercier  du  bien  que  nous  pouvons  avoir  fait,  soit 
pour  le  demander  un  surcroit  de  force  et  de  courage.  "  Ou  les 
dieux  ne  peuvent  rien,"  dit  Marc-AurSle,  "  ou  ils  i^euveut  quelque 
chose.  S'ils  ne  peuvent  rien,  pourquoi  les  prier?  Et  s'ils  ont 
quelque  pouvoir,  pourquoi,  au  lieu  de  leur  demander  de  te  donner 
quelque  cliose  ou  de  mettre  fin  k  telle  autre,  ne  les  pries-tu  pas  dc 
te  d^livrer  de  tes  craintes,  de  tes  dSsirs  et  de  tes  troubles  d'esprit  ? " 
On  a  raison  de  dire  que  Dieu  entend  et  exauce  les  pri&res  de  Fame 
raisonnable,  m?me  quand  elles  demeurent  sans  voix.  .  .  "  Mais 
qui  I'a  dit  que  les  dieux  ne  vienuent  pas  fi  notre  secours  mCme 
dans  les  clioses  qui  d^i)endent  de  nous  ?  Commence  seulement  a 
leur  demander  ces  sortes  de  secours,  et  tu  verras.  Celui-ci  prie 
pour  obtenir  les  faveurs  de  sa  maitresse,  et  toi,  prie  pour  n'avoir 
jamais  de  tels  desirs.  Celui-ci  prie  pour  gtre  delivrg  de  tel  far- 
deau ;  et  toi,  prie  d'etre  assez  fort  pour  n'avoir  pas  besoin  de  cette 
dfilivrance."  Une  telle  prifere  ne  ressemble  joas  a;  celles  de  la  foule, 
qui  parait  marchander  avec  Dieu,  et  lui  reprocber  d'etre  un  mau- 
vais  debiteur,  en  disant :  Si  jamais  j'ai  fait  fumer  I'encens  dans 
tes  temples,  donne-moi  telle  ou  telle  chose  en  revancbe.  Maxime 
de  Tyr  la  definit  tr^s-bien :  c'est  une  conversation  fortifiaute  avec 
Dieu ;  c'est  un  temoignage  que  Fame  se  rend  de  sa  vertu  en  remer- 
ciant  celui  qui  nous  Fa  inspir^e ;  c'est  un  encouragement  que  se 
donne  la  vertu,  en  demandant  a  Dieu  des  biens  que,  par  sa  faveur, 
elle  trouve  et  puise  en  elle-m^me.  Les  entretiens  d'Epictfete  sont 
pleins  de  priferes  de  cette  sorte,  communications  intimes  et  fami- 
li^res  avec  Dieu,  effusions  d'une  ame  pieuse  devant  son  maitre  et 
son  pfere,  actcs  de  foi  et  de  reconnaissance  envers  la  supreme 
bont^.  .  .  .  Au  lieu  dc  s'ecliai:)per  en  frivoles  sarcasmes, 
IG 


242  NOTES. 

comme  Lucien,  eu  invectives  inccnsSes,  comme  Lucain,  ou  bien  en 
paroles  amtres,  comme  Tacite,  qui  lie  reconnait  gufere  la  provi- 
dence de  Diju  qu'a  ses  coups  et  a  ses  vengeances,  le  pauvre  Epic- 
t^te,  I'aucicn  csclavc  d'Epaphrodite,  ne  salt  que  benir  celui  qui  I'a 
si  rudement  eprouv6 ;  et  je  ne  connais  rien  qui  peigne  mieux  I'^tat 
de  son  Time,  et  les  besoins  religieux  des  esprits  d'glite  au  commence- 
ment de  notre  fere,  que  ce  pencbant  fi  la  prifere  et  a  I'adoration.' 

M.  Denis  refers  to  a  variety  of  passages  in  Epictetus,  M.  Aure- 
lius,  and  others.  He  omits  one  example  of  the  prayers  of  the 
heathen,  perhaps  because  it  belongs  properly  to  a  later  jjeriod, 
though  evidently  formed  on  their  model.  The  commentary  of 
Simplicius  on  the  '  Conversations  of  Epictetus '  thus  concludes : — 

'IiiSTEbo  ere,  dedTrSTa^  6  rrar/jp  Kal  7'/y£fiuv  tov  iv  iiylv  Ad/ov,  vnoiivrjcdij- 
vai  /lev  Tjiiag  ttjc  iavTuv  ebyeveiag,  ijg  fj^iWrjfiev  Trapd  cov  •  cv/iirpd^ai  6i 
(jf  avTOKLvfjTOiQ  I'jlilv,  irpdg  re  K&dapmv  ttjv  arrb  tov  cr^fiarog  ical  tuv  aMyuv 
rraduv,  Kal  izphg  to  inTEpexsiv  Kol  apxEiv  avTuv,  Kal  ug  bpydvoig  KEXP^iydai 
icaTO.  TOV  TrpoaT/KOVTa  Tpdnov.  avfiTrpaTTeiV  re  Kal  izpbg  6i6pduGLV  aKpiji)) 
TOV  iv  rj/iiv  X6yov,  nal  evuaiv  avTov  Tzpog  to,  bvTug  ovto,  did  tov  T?]g  d?J;deiag 
<j>uT6g.  Kal  TO  rphov  Kal  cuTt/piov  •  uceTevo),  d<^e7\,E~iv  TsMug  Tt/v  ax^vv  tojv 
ijjvxiKuv  ijjiuv  ofi/MTuv,  '0(pp'  ev  yivuaKuiiEV  [KaTa  tov  'Ofir/pov)  t/  fiev  debv 
iyd^  Kal  dvdpa. 

Note  A  A,  page  137. 

De  Broglie,  L'Eglise  et  VEmjiire  jRomain,  iii.  1G5 : — '  L'ecolc 
d'Alexandrie  ne  faisait  pas  seulement  descendre  I'ame  humaine, 
par  une  suite  de  chutes  nScessaires,  des  hauteurs  de  I'fitre  absolu : 
elle  lui  enseignait  aussi  y  remonter  par  l'6tude  et  jjar  la  vertu.  .  .  . 
Aussi  n'est-cc  par  aucune  facultc  humaine  que  I'homme,  dans  le 
systfeme  nSoplatonicicn,  se  met  en  communication  avec  cette  su- 
preme forme  de  I'Etre  divin :  c'est  au  contraire  par  une  facultC 
supgricuro  a  lui,  qui  Fenlfeve  S  son  essence,  le  transfigure  et  I'ab- 
sorbe.     Ce  que  la  raison  ne  pcut  lui  foirc  connaitre,  Pextase  le  lui 


NOTES.  243 

rfivfele.  Sous  Ic  nom  d'extase,  I'i^cole  nC-oplatonicieune  cutcnd  non 
ime  faculte,  mais  iin  etat  de  Ttime.  C'est  I'etre  individucl  qui 
disparait  et  se  perd  dans  la  contemplation  de  I'Etre  infini  dont  il 
est  sorti  autrefois,  auquel  il  doit  retourncr  xni  joui\  Un  vif  amour 
de  la  v6rit6,  line  soif  de  la  posseder,  suppriraent  pour  im  moment, 
dSs  ici-bas,  les  limites  de  la  nature  finie,  et  lui  permettent  de  s'a- 
breuver  et  de  se  fondre  dans  la  source  mCme  de  son  etre.  Ce  n'est 
point  alors  I'urae  qui  connait  Dieu,  c'est  Dicu  qui  descend  en  elle : 
il  n'y  a  pas  deux  gtres,  Pun  connaissant,  I'autre  connu ;  il  n'y  a 
plus,  pour  parler  le  langage  teclmique,  un  sujet  et  un  objet  de  la 
connaissauce  ;  I'homme  ne  connait  pas  Dieu,  il  est  fait  Dieu  pour 
un  instant :  I'^clair  de  I'extase,  en  le  toucbant,  I'a  dgifig.  .  .  . 
Cette  tb^orie  de  I'extase  est  le  sommet  de  toute  la  doctrine  n^o- 
platonicienne.  L'extase  est  le  termc  dernier  de  tout  connaissancc, 
et  le  couronnement  de  la  vertu  parfaite.  C'est  par  un  j^atient 
ainoiu'  du  vrai,  par  une  constante  pratique  du  bien;  c'est  par  la 
mortification  des  sens,  le  dgtacbement  des  passions,  c'est  par  le 
mSpris  du  cordis  et  de  la  terre,  que  le  sage  Plotin  doit  m^riter  cette 
anticipation  de  I'immortalitg  divine.  C'est  en  cessant  d'etre 
homme  qu'il  peut  se  rendre  digne  de  devenir  Dieu.  Des  pratiques 
austeres  renouvelSes  de  Pytliagore,  excitees  peut-Stre  encore  j^ar 
I'^mulation  de^  exemples  chrStiens,  avaient  seules  rgvel6  S,  Plotin 
I'existence  de  cet  Stat  surnaturel.  Porpbyre  en  tra9ait  le  tableau 
dans  son  traitS  De  V Abstinence^  et  empruntant  presque  les  paroles 
de  I'Esprit-Saint,  il  engageait  les  bommes  a;  purifier  leur  corps, 
comme  le  temple  oil  doit  descendre  la  gloire  de  Dieu.  Sa  lettre  il 
sa  femme  Marcellc  respire  le  raeme  entbousiasme  d'austSritg.  Son 
d6goiit  des  cboses  de  la  terre  6tait  meme  poiiss6  si  loin,  qu'il  fallait 
I'intervention  de  Plotin  pour  le  dStourner  du  suicide.  Et  lui-meme 
cependant,  malgrS  tant  d'efforts,  n'avait  goUtS  que  rarement  les 
douceurs  de  I'extase.  "  Pour  moi,"  dit-il,  en  racontant  les  mer- 
veilles  de  la  vie  de  son  maitre,  "  je  n'ai  6t6  uni  qii'une  seule  fois 
il  Dieu,  il  ITige  de  quarante-buit  ans." ' 


244  NOTES. 

M.  PressensS,  in  liis  History  of  the  First  Three  Centuries  (jjartie 
ii.  torn.  2,  p.  62),  after  a  lucid  exijosition  of  the  doctrine  of  the 
New  Platonists,  thus  sums  up  his  comijarisou  between  it  and  the 
Christian : — 

'  Le  Christianisme,  par  I'humilitfi  et  la  mortification,  conduit  a 
la  plenitude  de  la  vie,  et  sa  morale  se  resume  dans  cette  parole  du 
Christ :  "  Si  quelqiCim  ^erd  sa  me,  il  la  retrouvera.''''  Le  neoplato- 
nisme,  par  l'asc6tisme  et  I'extase,  veut  amener  I'homme  a;  I'anSan- 
tissement,  car  le  dernier  terme  du  progrSs,  selon  lui,  c'est  de  perdre 
toute  conscience  de  soi,  c'est  d'etre  semblable  S  celui  qui  n'est  pas, 
c'est  done  de  ne  pas  etre.  Lui  aussi  dit  a  I'homme :  "  £coute-moi 
et  tu  seras  comme  un  dieu ;  "  mais  ce  dieu  auquel  il  faut  ressem- 
bler,  c'est  I'abstraction  pure,  c'est  le  non-etre,  c'est  le  nSant  imi^ar- 
faitement  dissimulg  par  un  langage  brillant,  jJoetique.  .  .  , 
Ainsi  finit  la  noble  philosojihie  grecque ;  elle  va  se  perdre  dans  la 
Nirvana  du  boudhisme ;  elle  pousse  I'id^e  orientale  jusqu'aux 
derni  feres  consequences,  jusqu'au  suicide  moral  que  les  sombres 
forSts  de  I'Inde  semblaient  devoir  seules  abriter. 

'  La  iDhilosophie  de  la  nature  a  parcouru  le  mgme  cycle  que  la 
religion  de  la  nature ;  elles  arrivent  I'une  et  I'autre  au  meme  terme, 
c'est  S  dire,  S.  I'anSantissement,  tant  il  est  vrai  qu'cn  s'enfermant 
dans  le  monde  inferieur,  en  cherchant  la  vie  dans  la  natui'e,  on 
s'Sloigne  de  la  source  veritable  de  I'etre.  Le  principe  de  la  nature 
est  au-dessus  d'elle  et  en  dehors  d'elle ;  elle  ne  se  sutfit  pas  a  elle- 
m6me,  et  quiconque  ne  s'61feve  pas  a  la  region  plus  haute  oil  reside 
le  principe  de  toute  vie,  ne  rencontre  en  bas  que  la  mort,  et  ne 
s'arrete  sur  cette  pente  que  quand  il  est  arriv6  au  neant.  Le  natura- 
lisme  s'ensevelit  n^cessairement,  comme  religion  et  comme  philo- 
sophic, dans  le  monde  inferieur,  oii  il  croyait  trouver  une  vie 
suffisante.' 


NOTES.  245 


Note  B  B,  page  143. 

The  pretensions  of  tlie  sorcerers  are  exjiosed  in  detail  by  Luciat 
in  liis  account  of  Alexander  of  Abonoteichus,  the  Pseudomantis,  as 
he  calls  him.  After  referring  to  this  celebrated  exposure,  Boll- 
inger {Gentile  and  Jeio,  ii.  199)  continues: — 

'  The  apparition  of  Hecate  was  equally  efficacious.  Believers 
were  told  to  throw  themselves  prostrate  on  the  ground  at  the  first 
sight  of  fire.  The  goddess  of  the  highways  and  roads,  the  Gorgo 
or  Mormo  wandering  among  the  graves  at  night,  was  then  invoked 
in  verse,  after  which  a  heron  or  vulture  was  let  loose,  with  lighted 
tow  attached  to  her  feet,  the  flame  of  which  frightening  the  bird, 
it  flew  wildly  about  the  room,  and  as  the  fire  flashed  here  and 
there,  the  prostrate  suppliants  were  convinced  that  they  were  eye- 
witnesses of  a  great  prodigy.  Similar  artifices  were  employed  to 
make  the  moon  and  stars  appear  on  the  ceiling  of  a  room,  and  to 
j)roduce  the  effects  of  an  earthquake.  To  make  an  inscription 
show  itself  on  the  liver  of  a  victim,  the  haruspex  wrote  the  words 
previously  with  sympathetic  ink  on  the  palm  of  his  hand,  which 
he  pressed  on  the  liver  long  enough  to  leave  the  impression  be- 
hind. And  so  the  Neo-Platonists  contrived  to  cheat  the  Emperor 
Julian  when  Maximus  conducted  him  into  the  subterranean  vaults 
of  a  temple  of  Hecate,  and  caused  him  to  see  an  apparition  of 
fire.' 

The  subject  of  the  prevalence  of  imposture  and  credulity  at 
this  time  in  the  Roman  world  is  well  reviewed  by  Denis,  Idees 
Morales^  &c.  ii.  277  sqq. : — 

'  Non-seulement  ils  sentaient  le  besoin  d'une  regie  et  d'une 
discipline,  mais  ils  fitaient  comme  enveloppSs  d'un  atmosphere  de 
cr€dulit6  et  de  superstitions.  C'est  le  temps,  en  efiet,  de  I'astro- 
logie,  de  la  magic,  et  de  mille  croyances  Stranges  sur  Dieu,  sur  les 
demons,  sur  Tame   et   sur    I'autre   monde,    qui   de  toutes  parts 


246  NOTES 

debordaient  de  I'Orient;  sur  I'Occident.  Les  enfauts  jierdus  du 
Portiqne  et  de  I'Acadgmie  et  leurs  adeptes  de  haut  rang  voulaient 
a  toute  force  pen^trer  Favcnir,  soit  en  lisant  dans  Ics  asti-es,  soit  en 
mettant  en  communication  avec  les  csprits,  tandis  que  le  petit 
peuijle  courait  aux  cultes  etrangers.  En  vain  les  C^sars,  S  qui  les 
sciences  occultes  ]nsj)iraient  une  feroce  tcrreur,  et  qui,  selon  le  mot 
de  Lucain,  "  dgfendaient  aux  dieux  de  parler,"  sSvissaient  contrc 
les  imjDosteurs  et  leurs  dupes,  et  faisaient  dStruire  publiquement 
par  le  feu  les  livrcs  de  magie,  deporter  ceux  qui  en  possed-aient, 
bruler  vifs  les  charlatans  de  la  Perse  et  de  la  Cbaldee,  exposer  aux 
betes  ou  mettre  en  croix  les  malbeureux  qui  avaient  la  sottise  de 
les  consulter.  En  vain  les  hommes  de  sens  soutenaient  que  tout 
I'art  des  devins  n'est  qu'une  imposture  pour  soutirer  de  I'argent 
aux  imbgcilles ;  cj^u'll  n'y  a  point  de  relation  entre  une  constella- 
tion et  le  sort  si  divers  de  tant  d'liommes  nes  dans  le  mem^ 
instant ;  que  les  dieux  ne  peuvent  6tre  soumis  a  la  puissance  et  a 
la  voloutS  des  mortels  ;  qu'il  faudrait  Stre  d'une  nature  surhumaine 
et  porter  en  soi  quelque  image  de  la  divinitS  pour  avoir  le  droit  dc 
proclamer  les  volontes  et  les  ordres  de  Dieu.  II  se  trouvait 
toujours  des  liommes,  ou  avides,  ou  impatients  de  la  destinee,  qui 
avaient  besoin  d'etre  trompCs,  et  Tacite  pouvait  dire  de  I'astrologie 
qu'elle  serait  toujours  cliassee  de  Eome  et  qu'elle  y  regnerait 
toujours.  Les  Grecs  gtaient  encore  plus  eutetes  de  la  magie,  qui 
leur  6tait  venue  de  I'Asie  et  de  I'Egypte.  Tout  leur  pai'aissait 
rempli  de  demons  bons  ou  mauvais,  et  comme  les  dieux  iitaient 
plus  nombreux  que  les  hommes  dans  certains  cantons  de  I'Acliaie, 
les  miracles  y  gtaient  aussi  moins  rares  que  les  faits  naturels.  II 
faut  voir  dans  Lucien  jusqu'ou  (itait  poussee  la  credulite.  Lac'est 
un  magicien  qui  vole  dans  I'air,  qui  passe  au  travers  du  feu,  qui 
attire  ou  qui  chasse  les  demons,  qui  gugrit  les  malades  ou  qui 
ressuscite  les  morts.  Ailleurs  c'est  un  Babylonien  qui  rasscmble,  a 
I'aide  de  quelques  mots  sacrSs,  tous  les  serpents  d'un  pays,  et  qui 
les  extermine  de  son  souffle.     Des  mallieureux  sont  fustigCs  toutes 


NOTES.  247 

Ics  units  par  de  mauvais  gcnics.  Des  statues  marclient,  parlent  ct 
mangcnt.  On  ne  prononce  qu'avec  un  respect  plein  de  terreur  les 
noms  des  morts,  en  ajoutant  quelque  formule  qui  put  leur  plaire, 
comme  le  BienJieureux  ou  lo  Saint.  Malheur  ii  vous,  si  vous 
j)araissiez  incrSdulc  a;  tant  de  contes  ou  de  sottes  sujjerstitions  ! 
Vous  f  tiez  un  impie,  et  il  n'eut  pas  tenu  aux  imposteurs  ou  a  ceux 
qu'ils  trompaient,  que  vous  ne  fussiez  lapide.  A  force  de  ne  rien 
croire,  on  en  gtait  venu  K  ne  plus  croire  que  I'impossible  et 
I'absurde.  Je  ne  connaitrais  rien  de  plus  triste  que  ce  retour  des 
l^cuiDles  a  Tenfance  par  la  decrepitude  de  la  pensee,  si  je  ne  faisais 
reflexion  que  la  vie  germe  toujours  S;  cotg  de  la  mort,  ct  que  ces 
d^ijlorables  extravaganes,  6taient  le  symptome  d'un  besoin  profond 
et  irresistible.  Epicure  et  les  sceptiques  avaient  fait  tous  leurs 
efibrts  pour  chasser  le  divin  des  csprits ;  et  ils  ne  paraissaient  avoii" 
que  trop  rSussi.  Mais  Ic  divin  y  rentrait  avec  violence  et  par 
toutes  les  voics,  au  risque  d'y  porter  le  trouble  et  la  demeuce.' 


Note  C  C,  page  144. 

The  burning  of  Eome  under  Nero  was  imputed,  as  we  know, 
by  pojmlar  hatred,  to  the  Christians,  and  the  first  persecution 
followed  in  consequence.  No  such  connection  was  imagined 
between  the  burning  of  the  Capitol  in  the  civil  wars  and  the  hated 
sectaries,  nor  can  we  trace  the  partial  persecution  of  the  Christians 
by  Domitian  to  any  popular  apprehension  of  the  anger  of  the  gods. 
Nevertheless  the  character  of  this  emjx'ror  and  his  superstitious 
belief  in  his  ov.-n  divine  a^jpoiutmeut  as  the  guardian  and  restorer 
of  the  national  religion,  makes  it  prol^able  that  he  v>'as  not  im- 
influenced  l)y  such  a  consideration.  The  trial  of  Ignatius  under 
Trajan  at  Antioch,  and  the  Christian  martyrdoms  that  followed, 
agree  with  the  date  of  the  great  earthquake  by  which  the  Syrian 
capital  was  partially  overthrown,  and  it  is  impossible  to  overlook 


248  NOTES. 

the  apparent  connection  between  this  event  and  the  persecution 
which  immediately  ensued.  The  same  may  be  said  of  the  great 
calamities  of  the  empire  and  the  persecutions  under  M.  Aurelius. 
These  calamities  were  redoubled  under  Decius  and  Gallus,  and  the 
fury  of  persecution  simultaneously  increased.  Diocletian  for  a 
long  time  resisted  the  importunities  of  his  colleague  Galerius  to 
renew  the  same  j)olicy  with  greater  energy  than  ever;  and  was  at 
last  determined  to  it  by  the  event,  probably  accidental,  though 
imjiuted  to  Galerius  himself  by  Lactantius,  of  a  conflagration  in 
his  own  palace.  Lactant.,  De  Mart.  Persecut.  c.  15.  That  the 
persecutions  were  repeatedly  excited  by  the  superstitious  terrors 
of  the  populace  is  the  constant  assertion  of  the  Christian  writers. 

See  the  classical  passage  in  Tertull.  2i])oll.  c.  40  : — 

Existimant  omnis  publicse  cladis,  omnis  popularis  incommodi 
Christianos  esse  causam.  Si  Tiberis  ascendit  in  moenia,  si  Nilus 
non  ascendit  in  arva,  si  coelum  stetit,  si  terra  movit,  si  fames,  si 
lues,  statim — Christianos  ad  leonem  ! 

Comp.  Cyprian,  Epist.  Ixxv.,  where  he  attributes  an  outburst 
of  persecution  in  some  parts  of  Asia  Minor  to  the  occurrence  of 
destructive  earthquakes:  ut  i)er  Caj^padociam  et  per  Pontum 
quaidam  etiam  civitates  in  profundum  receptae  dirupti  soli  hiatu 
devorarentur,  ut  ex  hoc  persecutio  quoque  gravis  adversus  nos 
Christian!  nominis  fleret.  See  also  Origen,  Comm.  in  Matthcetcm^ 
iii.  p.  859,  ed.  Delarue. 

Cyjirian,  Ad  Demetr.  c.  3.  Dixisti  per  nos  fieri,  et  quod  nobis 
debeant  imjjutari  omnia  ista  quibus  nunc  mundus  quatitur  et 
urgetur,  quod  dii  vestri  a  nobis  non  colantur.  The  motive  and 
principle  of  these  wild  and  sanguinary  impulses  lie  deei)  in  human 
nature,  and  deserve  attentive  consideration. 

The  sense  of  a  personal  relation  to  the  Deity  is  assuredly  an 
earlier  development  of  the  religious  instinct  than  that  of  a  public 
and  national  relation  to  Ilim.  The  instinct  which  jjrompts  man 
to  offer  sacrifice  to  God  was  first  directed  to  the  attainment  of 


NOTES.  249 

favour  for  himself,  or  pardon  and  protection ;  and  at  a  later  period 
extended  to  the  attempt  to  conciliate  God  to  his  country,  and  to 
its  public  interests.  Human  sacrifices  may  be  traced  back  to  the 
earlier  period ;  in  the  earliest  accounts  we  have  of  them,  they  seem 
to  have  been  offerings  of  individual  worshipjDei's,  as  when  the 
parent  offers  his  child,  the  master  his  slave,  and  the  choicest 
victims  are  immolated  at  the  tomb  of  the  departed  chieftain. 
They  mark  in  such,  cases  the  extreme  point  to  which  the  hopes, 
the  terrors,  or  the  remorse  of  the  individual  might  impel  him. 
We  may  conjecture  that  these  terrilsle  offerings  were  first  intro- 
duced into  both  Greek  and  Roman  usage  with  such  a  view  to 
private  and  personal  interests.  But  Ijoth  in  Greece  and  Rome  the 
political  instinct  became  early  predominant,  and  gradually  over- 
rode all  merely  personal  views  of  religion.  Human  sacrifices  were 
consecrated  in  both  the  great  nations  of  classical  antiquity  to  the 
special  object  of  procuring  divine  protection  for  the  State.  With 
this  object  they  were  publicly  sanctioned  and  regularly  practised 
in  early  times  both  in  Greece  and  Rome.  But  the  national  instinct 
of  religion,  and  national  devotion  to  religious  usage,  were  never  so 
strong  as  the  personal.  Men  could  not  feel  the  same  intense, 
absorbing  interest  in  the  safety  of  the  State,  as  in  their  own 
personal  safety.  They  could  not  continue  so  ruthlessly  to  trample 
upon  the  natural  feelings  of  humanity  for  the  one  object,  as  they 
might  have  done  for  the  other.  Hence  it  would  appear  that,  when 
the  idea  of  the  need  of  human  sacrifices  was  thus  far  dissociated 
from  the  personal  interests  of  the  offerer,  the  advance  of  civiliza- 
tion and  cultivated  feelings  led  the  Greeks,  and  especially  the 
lonians  and  Athenians,  the  most  cultivated  among  them,  to  dis- 
countenance, to  modify,  and  finally  to  reject  them  generally  as  an 
instrument  of  public  utility.  The  influence  of  Grecian  habits  and 
teaching  operated  strongly  upon  the  Romans,  and  gradually 
tempered  the  gloomier  instincts  of  that  people  also.  Possibly  the 
national  successes  and  the  established  security  of  the  State  against 


250  NOTES. 

the  most  m-gent  calamities  of  war  and  conquest,  aided  powerfully 
in  producing  this  change  of  sentiment.  From  the  year  B.C.  95, 
the  era  of  her  most  triumphant  prosperity,  the  laws  of  Eome 
expressly  forbade  human  sacrifice.  Her  writers  generally  speak 
of  it  with  horror.  They  felt  no  need  of  it,  and  they  were  free  to 
regard  it  with  the  detestation  which  human  nature  projierly 
entertains  for  it.  They  declare  that  no  such  usage  exists  at 
Rome ;  that  it  is  abhorrent  from  Eoman  manners  and  morality ; 
the  chiefs  of  the  Empire  take  measures  to  check  it  in  their  remoter 
and  less  civilized  provinces.  So  strong  is  the  j^rotest  of  Roman 
civilization  against  it,  that,  on  a  superficial  view  of  the  facts  it  has 
lieen  often  asserted  that  human  sacrifice  was  actually  abolished  for 
centuries  under  the, sway  of  the  Roman  Emperors. 

Such,  however,  was  far  from  the  case.  Even  in  the  State- 
ritual  of  Rome  some  traces  of  the  practice  still  continued  to  linger. 
Even  on  public  occasions,  and  for  national  objects,  human  sac- 
rifices were  from  time  to  time  oflered.  In  cases  of  political 
urgency,  the  '  Gaul  and  the  Greek '  were  still  buried  solemnly  in 
the  forum. 

Still  worse,  the  practice  creeps  back  again  for  private  and 
personal  objects,  and  is  associated  with  magical  ceremonies. 
When  the  State  is  merged  in  the  ruler,  it  is  difiicult  to  distinguish 
the  personal  from  the  public  interest ;  but  it  was  probalily  more 
foi'  their  own  sakes  than  for  the  sake  of  the  commonwealth,  that 
irregular  sacrifices  of  this  kind  were  perpetrated  by  Julius  Caesar, 
by  Augustus,  by  Tiberius,  and  Nero,  and  after  them  still  more 
frequently  and  without  disguise  by  most  of  the  succeeding  empe- 
rors. Trajan  himself  sacrificed  a  beautiful  woman  after  the  earth- 
quake at  Antioch,  as  a  propitiation,  we  may  suppose,  for  the 
safety  of  that  city.  The  self-devotion  of  Antinous  for  Hadrian  is 
an  instance  of  quasi-sacrifice.  The  significance  of  the  rite,  as  the 
voluntary  ofi"ering  of  the  best  and  dearest,  seems  to  come  back 
upon  the  conscience  of  mankind  as  a  revived  revelation  of  man's 


NOTES.  251 

relatioa  to  God.  The  rhetorician  Aristidcs  believes  himself  to  be 
saved  from  imminent  peril  of  death  by  the  self-immolation  of  his 
brother  Hermias,  and  in  a  fresh  access  of  his  disease  persuades  his 
sister  Philumene  to  devote  herself  for  him  also.  The  influence  of 
the  earlier  and  healthier  teaching  of  the  Greek  philosophers  and 
jjhilanthropists  had  now  become  weaker ;  at  the  same  time  the 
barbarous  ideas  of  Asia  and  Africa  were  making  themselves  more 
powerfully  felt.  The  calamities  of  the  State  seemed  to  demand 
greater  and  more  striking  efforts  to  appease  the  manifest  wrath  of 
Heaven.  Along  with  the  increase  of  other  wild  and  gloomy 
superstitions,  human  sacrifices  became  more  and  more  common, 
and  ceased  to  be  regarded  with  the  horror  they  naturally  inspii'e. 
Undoubtedly  various  feelings  entered  into  the  demand  for  the 
persecution  of  the  Christians.  The  magistrate  regarded  them  as 
transgressors  of  a  prmciple  in  public  law,  as  evil-doers,  as  fosterers 
of  treason  and  sedition ;  and  was  disposed  to  punish  them  accord- 
ingly. But  the  people  generally,  and  sometimes  the  rulers  them- 
selves, yielded  to  a  sui^erstitious  impulse  in  ascribing  to  their 
rejection  of  sacrifice  and  of  idol-worship  every  public  calamity, 
which  testified,  as  they  supposed,  to  the  wrath  of  the  ofi'ended 
deities.  The  execution  of  the  Christians  was  thus  pojpularly 
regarded  as  a  means  of  propitiation.  This  idea  was  sanctioned 
and  fostered  apparently  by  the  most  usual  manner  of  these  execu- 
tions ;  for  the  shows  of  the  amphitheatre  had  si^rung  out  of  the 
primitive  custom  of  sacrificing  human  victims  at  the  altar  of  a  god 
or  the  tomb  of  a  deceased  hero.  Even  to  the  time  of  Constantine, 
it  is  said,  a  vestige  of  this  idea  was  preserved  in  the  annual  immo- 
lation of  a  gladiator  on  the  Alban  mount  to  Jupiter  Latiaris. 

For  a  succinct  but  full  discussion  of  the  subject  of  human 
sacrifice,  with  a  copious  citation  of  authorities,  I  would  willingly 
refer  the  reader  to  a  tract  lately  printed,  but  not  yet  j)ublished,  by 
Sir  John  Acton.  The  writer  extends  his  historical  review  to 
modern  times,  and  connects  with  it  the  notorious  persecution  of 


252  NOTES. 

reputed  witchcraft.  The  other  equal  and  parallel  disgrace  of 
Christianity,  the  Romish  Inquisition,  he  regards  too  leniently  as  a 
merely  political  tribunal.  I  believe  that  in  both  cases  the  popular- 
feeling  which  supported  and  imijelled  the  action  of  the  magistrate 
was  the  same  :  but  this  too  was  a  mixed  feeling.  First,  as  in  the 
case  of  the  Imperial  persecutions,  there  was  the  superstitious 
anxiety  to  proj)itiate  the  wrath  of  an  offended  deity,  the  same 
anxiety  that  has  lain  at  the  bottom  of  human  sacrifice  at  all  times ; 
but,  secondly,  there  was  the  notion,  peculiar,  so  far  as  appears,  to 
Christianity,  and  which  may  serve  in  a  very  slight  degree  to 
relieve  the  horror  of  these  Christian  persecutions,  that  the  sacrifice 
is  required  for  the  sufferer's  own  sake,  or  if  too  late  to  save  his 
own  soul,  may  at  least  secure  the  survivors  from  the  contagion  of 
his  fatal  impiety. 


Note  D  D,  page  150. 

Neander,  Cliurch  History^  i  j).  43  (Engl,  transl.)  : — 
'  On  every  side  was  evinced  the  need  of  a  revelation  from 
heaven,  such  as  would  give  inquiring  minds  that  assurance  of 
peace  which  they  were  unable  to  find  in  the  jarring  systems  of  the 
old  philosojjhy,  and  in  the  artificial  life  of  the  reawakened  old  re- 
ligion. That  zealous  champion  of  the  latter,  Porphyry,  alludes 
himself  to  the  deej)-felt  necessity ;  which  he  proposed  to  supply, 
leaning  on  the  authority  of  divine  responses,  by  his  "  Collection 
of  Ancient  Oracles."  On  this  point  he  says :  "  The  utility  of  such 
a  collection  will  best  be  understood  by  those  who  have  felt  the 
painful  craving  after  truth,  and  have  sometimes  wished  it  might 
be  their  lot  to  witness  some  ajipearance  of  the  gods,  so  as  to  be 
relieved  from  their  doubts  by  information  not  to  be  disputed." 
(See  Euseb.,  Prmp.  Evang.  iv.  7.) 

The  life  of  such  a  person,  from  his  youth  up  harassed  with 


NOTES.  253 

doubts,  unsettled  by  the  strife  of  ojjposite  opinions,  ardently  long- 
ing after  the  truth,  and  conducted  at  length,  through  this  pro- 
tracted jjeriod  of  dissatisfied  craving,  to  Christianity,  is  delineated 
by  the  author  of  a  sort  of  romance  (partly  jjhilosophical  and  in 
2)art  religious),  who  belonged  to  the  second  or  the  third  centui^. 
This  work  is  called  The  Clementines^  and,  though  fiction,  is  clearly 
a  fiction  drawn  from  real  life ;  and  we  may  safely  avail  ourselves 
of  it,  as  presenting  a  true  and  characteristic  sketch,  which  might 
doubtless  apply  to  many  an  inquiring  spirit  belonging  to  those 
times.     It  commences  thus : — 

Ego,  Clemens,  in  urbe  Roma  natus,  ex  prima  setate  pudicitise 
studium  gessi ;  dum  me  animi  intentio  velut  viuculis  quibusdam 
solicitudinis  et  moeroris  innexum  teneret.  Inerat  mihi  cogitatio 
incertum  sane  undo  initium  sumpserit,  crebro  enim  ad  memoriam 
meam  conditionem  mortalitatis  adducens,  simulque  discutiens : 
utrumne  sit  mihi  aliqua  vita  post  mortem,  an  nihil  omnino  sim 
futurus ;  si  non  fuerim  antequam  nascerer ;  vel  si  nulla  prorsus 
vitaj  hujus  erit  post  obitum  recordatio ;  et  ita  immensitas  temporis 
cuncta  oblivioni  et  silentio  dabit,  &c. 

The  work,  which  runs  to  as  many  as  ten  books,  and  expatiates 
in  a  number  of  worthless  stories  about  St.  Peter  at  Rome,  and  Si- 
mon Magus,  and  others,  is  printed  in  Coteler's  Patres  Aj^ostolici,  i. 
493,  under  the  title  of  '  Recognitionum  S.  Clementis  libri  x.'  It 
was  attributed  in  early  times  to  St.  Clement,  the  disciple  of  Paul 
and  author  of  the  Epistles  to  the  Corinthians.  The  work  is  fully 
analysed  by  Neander  in  the  second  volume  of  his  History, 
p.  25  foil.  Similarly,  in  the  conversation  between  Justin  Mar- 
tyr and  his  unknown  interlocutor,  the  heathen  jjhilosopher  is 
forced  to  admit  the  vanity  of  his  master's  reasonings  on  the 
nature  of  God  and  the  soul,  and  to  seek  speculative  truth 
in  the  revelations  made  through  the  Hebrew  jorophets  : 
iyevovTd  Tiveg  npb  TToTJkov  xp^vov  iravTuv  tovtuv  tuv  vo/iii^o/xivuv  fi?i.oa6^uv 
TzaKaidrepoi,  fiaKapioc  koI  SiKaioi  Kai  deo(pcXE~cc,  Qdu  TcvevjiaTi  Xa}JjaavTEQ  nal 


254  NOTES. 

TO.  [lOJiovTa  deuTTicavTeg,  a  6?/  vvv  yiverac '  TTpo(pT/Tac  Se  avToi'C  Kalovaiv 
OvTot  fidvoi  TO  d?.?}Oec  nal  eidov  Koi  i^el-nov  avOpunoic;,  [lyr"  ehXafiijdevTeQ 
uijTE  SvauTrrjdsvTEg  nva,  fiy  rjTTrifitvoi  66^7/g,  a2?M  /i6va  ravra  e\it6vteq  a 
'/Kovoav  Koi  a  el6ov  c'lyio)  Tr?ir/puOivTEC  KVEVjiaTi, — Justin  M.,  Dial,  cxim 
Trijiili.  c.  7. 

The  '  Coufessious '  of  St.  Angustiuc,  in  which  he  gives  a  full 
account  of  the  intellectual  and  moral  peii)lexities  "which  led  him 
to  renounce  irreligion  and  heresy,  and  embrace  a  saving  faith,  is 
of  a  later  date,  and  belongs  jDro^Dcrly  to  the  Jiost-Nicene  period. 
See  the  seventh  book  jjarticularly. 

His  tirst  and  greatest  difficulty  was  the  Origin  of  Evil  {Confess. 
vii.  3) : — Sed  rursus  dicebam,  Quis  fecit  me  ?  nonne  Deus  mens,  non 
tantum  bonus,  sed  ipsum  bonum  ?  Unde  igitur  mihi  male  velle 
ct  bene  nolle,  ut  esset  cur  juste  jDcenas  luerem  ?  Quis  in  me  hoc 
posuit,  et  insevit  mihi  plautarium  amaritudinis,  cum  totus  flerem 
a  dulcissimo  Deo  meo?  Si  Diabolus  auctor,  unde  iiJse  Diabolus  ? 
.  .  .  (c.  5.)  Et  quserebam,  unde  malum :  et  male  quserebam :  et 
in  ipsa  inquisitione  mea  non  videbam  malum.  .  .  .  (c.  G.)  Jam 
etiam  mathematicorum  fallaces  divinationes  et  impia  deliramenta 
rcjeceram.  .  .  (c.  7.)  Jam  itaque  me,  adjutor  mens,  illis  vinculis 
solveras,  et  quterebam  unde  malum,  et  non  erat  exitus.  .  .  .  (c.  13.) 
Et  i^rimo  volens  ostendere  mihi,  quam  resistas  superbis,  humilibus 
autem  des  gratiam,  et  quanta  misericordia  tua  demonstrata  sit 
hominibus  via  humilitatis,  quod  Ver'bum  tuum  cnro  factum  est,  et 
habituvit  inter  homines,  2)rocurasti  mihi  per  quendam  homincm  im- 
manissinio  tyjiho  turgidum,  quosdam  Platonicorum  libros  .... 
et  ibi  legi,  non  quidem  his  verbis,  sed  hoc  idem  omnino  multis  et 
multiiilicibus  suaderi  rationibus ;  quod  in  principio  erat  Verbum, 
et  Verbum  erat  apud  Deum,  et  Deus  erat  Verbum  :  hoc  erat  in 

jjrincipio  apud  Deum ;  omnia  per  cum  facta  sunt (c.  14.) 

Item  ibi  legi  quia  Deus  Verbum,  non  ex  carne.  non  ex  sanguine, 
non  ex  voluntate  viri,  neque  ex  voluntate  carnis,  sed  ex  Deo  natus 
est.     Sed  quia  Verbum  caro  factum  est,  ct  Juihitcwit  in  nobis,  non  ibi 


NOTES.  256 

legi.  .  .  .  Quod  exin  ante  omnia  tcm2)ora,  et  supra  omnia  tempera 
incommutabiliter  mauet  unigenitus  Filius  tuus  coteternus  tibi,  et 
quia  de  plenitudine  ejus  accijDiunt  anima?  ut  l)eata!  sunt,  et  quia 
particiiDationc  mauentis  in  so  sapieutiaj  renovantur  ut  sajjientes 
sint :  est  ibi.  Quod  autem  secundum  tempus  ^jro  imiriis  mortuus 
est ;  et  Filio  unico  tuo  nou  pepercisti,  sed  'pro  nobis  omnihus  tradi- 
disti  eum :  non  est  ibi.  Abscondisti  enim  Tiffic  a  sapientibus,  et 
revelusti  ea  parvulis.  .  .  .  (c.  10.)  Et  inde  admonitus  redire  ad 
memetij^sum,  intravi  in  intima  mca  ducc  te  ;  et  potui  quoniam 
factus  es  adjutor  meus:  seqq. 

Of  the  jn-ocess  of  thought  by  which  such  inquirers  were  led 
to  Christianity,  Neander  says  {Hist,  of  the  Church.^  iii.  135): — 
'  Many  educated  Pagans  were  conducted  to  the  Faith,  not  at  once, 
by  means  of  some  sudden  excitement,  but  after  they  had  been  led 
by  i^articular  providences,  by  the  great  multitude  of  Christians 
around  them,  to  entertain  doubts  of  the  Pagan  religion  they  had 
received  from  their  ancestors,  and  to  enter  upon  a  serious  exami- 
tion  of  the  several  systems  of  religion  within  their  reach.  They 
read  the  Holy  Scriptures  and  the  writings  of  the  Christian 
Fathers;  they  proposed  their  doubts  and  their  difficulties  to 
Christian  friends,  and  finally  made  up  their  minds  to  go  to  the 
bishop.  Many  came,  by  slow  degrees,  through  many  intervening 
steps,  to  Christianity;  and  the  Neo-Platonic  religious  idealism 
formed  one  stage  in  particular  by  which  they  were  brought  nearer 
to  Christian  ideas,  as  is  seen  in  the  examples  of  a  Synesius  and  an 
Augustine.  This  system  made  them  familiar  with  the  doctrine 
of  a  Triad.  Although  this  doctrine,  in  its  speculative  tendency, 
was  altogether  difierent  from  the  Christian  doctrine,  which  is  in 
its  essence  practical  throughout ;  yet  they  were  thereby  made  at- 
tentive to  Christian  ideas.  They  were  conducted  still  nearer  to 
practical  Christianity  by  the  doctrine  that  man  needed  to  be  re- 
deemed and  purified  from  the  might  of  the  W.^,  Avhich  not  only 
fettered  and  clogged,  but  corrupted  that  element  of  his  soul  which 


256  NOTES. 

stands  related  to  God.  It  is  true,  they  believed  only  in  a  general 
redeeming  power  of  God,  -wbicli  was  imparted  to  individuals  in 
proportion  to  their  worth ;  or  the  communication  of  which  was 
connected  with  various  religious  institutions  under  different 
forms.  ,  .  .  Yet  when  those  to  whom  Christianity  appeared  at 
first  as  one  particular  revelation  of  the  divine,  coordinate  to  other 
forms  of  manifestation,  and  not  as  the  absolute  religion  of  hu- 
manity, were  induced  to  read  the  Holy  Scriptures,  and  so  attend 
divine  worship  in  Christian  churches.  .  .  .  they  might  by 
their  own  study  of  the  Scriptures,  and  through  numberless  im- 
pressions derived  from  the  Church  life,  be  let  more  deeply  into 
the  Christian  truth,  until  at  last  they  found  the  redeeming  God 
only  in  Christ.  .  .  .  Thus  Synesius,  for  example  .  .  .  thus  it  hap- 
pened to  Augustine.  .  .  .' 


Note  E  E,  page  154. 

Plin.,  Hist.  Nat..,  ii.  1 : — Mundum  et  hoc  quod  nomine  alio 
coelum  appellare  libuit,  cujus  circumflexu  teguntur  omnia,  numcn 
credi  par  est,  jetemum,  immensum,  neque  genitum  neque  interitu- 
rum  unquam.  The  i^hilosopher  seems  to  identify  the  universe  of 
things  with  the  heavens,  or  vault  of  sjether,  embracing  all  things, 
hj  which  the  globe  is  surrounded.  Cicero  recites  well-known 
passages  to  the  same  effect  from  Eunius  and  Euripides:  Aspice 
hoc  sublime  candens  quern  invocant  omnes  Jovem.  .  .  .  Vides 
sublime  fusum  immoderatum  oathcra,  qui  terram  tenero  circumjectu 
amplectitur.  Hunc  summam  habeto  Divum,  hunc  perhibcto  Jovem. 
The  Stoic  Chrysippus  had  advanced  the  same  exposition  of  the 
Godhead :  Chrysippus  disputavit  sethera  esse  cum  quern  homines 
appellant  Jovem.  Cicero,  De  Nat.  JDeor.,  ii.  2, 25.  Lucan,  follow- 
ing an  ampler  explanation  of  the  same  school,  affirmed  Jupiter  to 
be  not  only  :  quodcunque  vides,  the  whole  material  universe,  but : 


NOTES.  25T 

quocunque  moveris,  the  whole  of  our  moral  nature.  But  such 
authorities  as  these  had  condescended  to  use  at  least  the  popular 
name  of  the  Supreme  Deity,  and  to  speak  of  Him  as  a  personal 
existence.  Pliny  disdains  this  economy.  After  discussing  various 
theological  views,  he  concludes  himself:  Deus  est  mortal!  juvare 
mortalem,  et  htec  ad  getcrnam  gloriam  via,  i.  e.  God  is  the  mere 
abstract  principle  of  virtue ;  and  this  leads  him  round  to  the 
starting-point  of  the  Pagan  mythologies,  the  pretended  deification 
of  the  wise  and  good  among  mortals  :  Hac  proceres  iere  Romani  ; 
hac  nunc  coelesti  jiassu  cum  lilcris  suis  vadit  maximus  omnis  a)vi 
rector  Vespasianus  August  us  fessis  rebus  subveniens.  Hie  est 
vetustissimus  referendi  gratiam  bene  merentibus  mos,  ut  tales 
numinibus  ascribant.  Quippe  et  omnium  aliorum  nomina  Deo- 
rum  ...  ex  hominum  nata  sunt  meritis.  And  hence  by  an 
easy  lapse  to  the  denial  of  a  Providence :  Irridendum  vero  agere 
curam  rerum  humanarum  illud  quicquid  est  summum.  Such  is 
the  vicious  circle  described  by  Pantheism  and  xltheism. 

Note  F  F,  page  157. 

With  regard  to  the  means  of  obtaining  peace  and  favour  with 
God,  the  main  object  of  our  religious  aft'ections,  the  notion  of  the 
ancients  fluctuated,  much  like  our  own,  between  the  principles  of 
Sanctification  and  Justification,  of  gaining  the  reward  ])y  personal 
acts  or  merits,  or  by  free  acceptance  in  consequence  of  some  act  or 
merit  of  another.  Under  the  first  head  are  comjorised  ceremonial 
purifications,  as  well  as  works  of  justice  or  charity ;  all  godly 
living  as  well  as  righteous  observance  ;  acts  of  jjersonal  discipline 
and  self-denial ;  means  of  removing  inward  or  outward  hindrances 
to  accei)tance  with  the  Deity.  Thus  man  is  supposed  to  work  out 
his  own  salvation,  whatever  aid  may  be  given  him  from  above, 
whether  by  the  opus  operatum  of  ritual  lustrations,  or  by  the 
infusion  of  divine  grace  to  prevent  and  follow  him  in  all  his 
17 


258  NOTES. 

tliouglits  and  actions.  Under  the  second  principle  is  comprised 
tlie  notion  of  satisfaction  to  God,  of  reconciliation  witli  Him,  of 
atonement  cfTected  by  a  prescribed  religious  service,  sucli  as 
sacrifice;  wlietlier  the  oifci'ing  hy  the  worshipper  of  an  object 
precious  to  himself,  or  the  self-devotion  of  an  object  precious  to 
God,  for  the  love  it  bears  to  the  worshipper. 

In  the  early  ages  of  Christianity  we  find  both  these  ideas  of 
religion,  both  these  ruling  principles  of  divine  worship,  recognised 
equally  among  the  heathens.  Lustration  and  Expiation,  Purifica- 
tion and  Propitiation,  the  Mysteries  and  the  Sacrifices,  were  in 
perhaps  equal  vogue  and  estimation  among  them.  By  the  one 
they  hoped  to  wash  away  the  stains  of  guilt,  to  elevate  the  moral 
character,  to  cast  off  the  slough  of  human  corruption,  to  purge  the 
mehtal  vision  and  obtain  a  higher  and  truer  conception  of  the 
Divine,  or  nearer  communion  with  it ;  to  abjure  our  frail  humanity 
and  assume  a  portion  at  least  of  divine  illumination,  purity,  and 
sanctity ;  to  raise  man  to  God.  Such  was  the  object  of  the 
Mysteries,  or  Initiation  into  the  secrets  of  moral  nature  ;  such  the 
promises  held  forth  by  the  Hieroijhants  of  various  religious 
systems,  especially  of  those  derived  from  or  connected  with  the 
East,  and  assured  through  the  instrumentality  of  occult  cere- 
monial observances,  and  most  potently  by  the  use  of  magical  arts 
and  appliances. 

But  such  were  the  aspirations,  and  such  the  resources  generally 
of  the  more  refined  and  intelligent  worshippers ;  this  notion  of 
lustration  as  the  one  thing  needful  was,  in  a  great  measure,  a 
reaction  from  the  grosser  su2)crstitions  of  the  vulgar;  from  the 
popular  conception  that  God's  favour  was  to  be  attained  directly, 
and  without  any  personal  effort,  by  the  means  of  offerings  and 
sacrifice.  To  pour  forth  before  the  throne  of  grace  gifts — precious 
gifts,  gifts  ever  ascending  in  value,  gifts  of  life,  of  the  life  of 
animals,  and  lastly  of  man  himself,  of  our  friends,  of  our  offspring, 
of  ourselves — such  was  the  most  popular,  the  most  ancient,  the 


NOTES.  259 

most  wide-spread  notion  of  religious  service.  The  idea  seems 
to  liave  commonly  prevailed,  that  such  sacrifice  was  accepted 
instead  of  the  suffering  due  from  the  worshipper  himself  for  his 
sins,  or  the  disfovour,  however  caused,  in  which  he  imagined  him- 
self to  stand  with  God.  Hence,  the  more  precious  the  victim  to 
Him,  the  more  hope  that  the  vicarious  substitute  would  be 
accex^ted.  Of  the  extent  to  which  human  sacrifices  were  oflferod 
in  the  heathen  world  I  have  spoken  in  a  previous  note,  and  of  the 
ineradicable  feeling  which  prompted  them,  and  which  reapiJcared 
again  and  again  under  the  pressure  of  terror  and  disaster.  But 
even  in  the  heathen  mind  this  idea  of  the  value  of  sacrifice 
assumed  here  and  there  another  and  a  higher  form.  Indications 
are  not  wanting  in  the  Pagan  mythology  of  the  conception  of  a 
spontaneous  offering  made  to  God  for  man  by  a  being  himself 
partaking  of  the  divine  nature,  and  having,  from  such  participa- 
tion, a  certain  claim  ujDon  the  favour  and  consideration  of  the 
Deity.  The  highest  and  holiest  idea  of  sacrifice,  as  the  offering 
by  God  Himself  of  something  precious  to  Himself  for  the  sake  of 
man,  and  in  order  to  reconcile  man  to  Himself,  is  not  wholly  alien 
even  from  the  mind  of  the  heathens. 

The  Greeks  and  Romans  might  leam,  on  inquiry,  that 
Christianity  offered  a  view  of  religion  founded,  like  their  own, 
on  the  ideas  both  of  purification  and  of  propitiation.  They  might 
leam  that  Baiitism  was  regarded  by  the  Church  as  an  initiatory 
rite,  leading  to  a  new  life  of  purity  and  godliness,  the  great 
hindrances  to  which,  in  natural  and  acquired  corruption,  might 
be  removed  by  the  grace  of  the  Holy  Sjiirit  infused  into  the  hearts 
of  the  believers,  and  manifesting  itself  in  their  conversion  to  God. 
and  their  amendment  of  life  and  conversation. 

Again,  they  might  learn  that  the  death  of  Christ  upon  the 
cross  was  declared  to  be  a  sacrifice,  consummated  once  for  all,  the 
crowning  sacrifice  of  which  all  earlier  offerings  were  but  types,  the 
offering,  not  of  man's  dearest  as  a  ransom  for  himself  from  punish- 


260  •  NOTES. 

ment  due  to  his  own  sins,  but  the  offering  of  God's  dearest  for  the 
sake  of  man,  as  the  means  discovered  by  tlie  Most  High  to  satisfy 
His  justice,  and  at  the  same  time  to  illustrate  His  love. 

They  might  learn,  further,  that  the  Christian  mind  still  fluc- 
tuated, like  theii'  own,  between  these  two  conceptions  ;  that  some- 
times, and  in  some  minds,  the  one,  in  some  the  other,  gained  the 
predominance ;  that,  as  in  after  times,  so  even  then,  there  were 
some  teachers  who  put  forward  the  one  view  as  the  main  essence 
of  religion,  some  the  other ;  that  in  some  schools  it  is  the  life  of 
Christ,  with  the  lessons  and  example  of  godly  practice  which  it 
has  taught  us ;  in  others,  the  death  of  Christ,  the  cross  of  Christ, 
the  atonement  of  Ckrist,  that  is  the  one  great  revelation  of  the 
Gospel,  There  is  still,  as  there  ever  has  been  in  Christianity,  as 
there  ever  has  been  in  Heathenism,  Purification  on  one  side  and 
Propitiation  on  the  other ;  Sanctification  in  one  scale  and  Justifi- 
cation in  the  other. 

Thus  they  might  read  in  Justin  Martyr  that  the  work  of 
Christ  is  victory  over  the  power  of  evil  spirits  prevailing  in  us : 
OTTO  jap  Tuv  datfxoviuv,  a  icriv  aTikdrpia  ri/c  svoelieiag  tov  Oeov,  dig  izaTiai 
irpoceKWOvfiEV,  tov  6ebv  ael  6ia.  'Irjcov  Xpiarov  awTTjprjdFjvai  irapaKaloviiEV, 
'iva  fxera  to  eniaTpeipac  Trpbc  Oeov  a/xu/ioi  u/iev  •  [imjObv  yap  ekeIvov  kol 
lvTpi)Trrv  KalovjiEv.  By  Justin,  Irenajus,  Tertullian,  Clement,  Origen, 
and  others,  it  is  very  commonly  referred  to  the  change  He  effects 
in  men's  lives  on  earth,  and  the  sanctifying  influence  of  His  teach- 
ing and  example.  Thus  Irena;us,  Adv.  Hear.  iii.  18 :  Filius  homi- 
nis  factus  est,  ut  assuesceret  hominem  pcrcipere  Deum,  ct  assue- 
sccret  Deum  habitare  in  homine.  In  ii.  22 :  Omnes  venit  salvare  .  .  . 
infantes  et  j^arvulos  et  jjueros  et  juvcnes  et  seniores :  ideo  per  om- 
nem  venit  a^tatem,  ct  infantibus  infans  factus,  sanctificans  in- 
fantes, &c.  Clemens  Alex.,  Coliort.  ad  Gent.^  j).  6  :  to//-?;  tol  7'iheIq 
ol  tt/q  avo/xiag  vloi  ttote,  dia  ti/v  ^OiavOpuniav  tov  "kdyov  vvv  viol  yEydva/zEV 
TOV  Oeov.  Ptcdar/.  i.  2,  p.  100 :  egtiv  ovv  6  Tratdayuyog  y/iiuv  Aoyoc  ^iH 
TrapaiviaEorv  OspaTZEVTiKog  tuv  napa  <pvaiv  Tfjg  ipv^fjc  nadcjv  .  .  .  2,6yoc 
Se  6  naTpiKog  fi6vog  egtiv  avdpunivuv  laTpbg  ap'puaTTjpaTuv  -acupiog  icai 


NOTES,  261 

sKuSog  aytoc  voaovc7]Q  '\pvxvc.  Origen  sees  in  the  iiuion  of  the  divine 
and  hunian  in  Christ's  nature  the  commencement  of  a  connection 
between  man  and  God  {Cont.  Ccls.  iii.  28) :  on  an  eKeivov  J/p^aro  6eia 
Kal  avdpunivT]  awvdaiveadat  ^'vaig  •  a'  rj  avdpuTtivT]  ttJ  izpog  to  deiorspov 
Koivuvt^  yevTirai  de'ia  ovk  kv  judvo)  Til  'Irjcov,  aTJka  Kal  naai  toIq  fisTd  tcv 
niffTeuetv  avaTiO/Ltfiavovai  (3tov,  bv  6  'Irjaovg  edlda^ev.  The  same  writer 
comjiares  the  death  of  Christ  with  that  of  Socrates,  as  a  means 
of  confirming  the  courage  of  his  disciples.  See  Contr.  Cels.  ii. 
14,  40. 

Again,  Lactantius  refers  the  work  of  Christ  expressly  to  the 
eflfect  of  His  baptism  {Dkin.  Instit.  iv.  15) :  Tiuctus  est  a  Johanne 
in  Jordano  fluvio,  ut  lavacro  spiritali  peccata  non  sua,  quse  utiquc 
non  habebat,  sed  carnis  quam  gerebat,  aboleret. 

These  views,  however,  did  not  necessarily  exclude  the  other 
notion  of  the  efficacy  of  Christ's  death  for  man's  justification. 
The  heathens  might  trace  in  patristic  teaching  many  distinct  as- 
sertions of  the  remission  of  sins  through  the  merit  of  our  Lord's 
sacrifice.  Comp.  Barnabas,  c.  5 :  Propter  hoc  Dominus  sustinuit 
tradere  corjjus  suum  in  exterminium,  ut  remissione  peccatorum 
sanctificemur,  quod  est,  sparsione  sanguinis  illius.  Clemens  Rom. 
ad  Corinth,  i.  c.  7  :  aTevlaufiev  e'lg  to  ai/ua  rov  XpiGTcv  Kal  iSu/iev  ug 
t!/j,iov  T(j  Oeu  (ajfia)  avTov,  oTi  Kal  6id  t^v  yfiSTcpav  cuTtipiav  EKxvdiv  TtavTt 
tCi  Kdff/io}  fXETavoiag  xapiv  vnr/veyKEv.  Tertullian,  Adv.  Judceos,  c.  13: 
Christum  oportebat  pro  omnibus  gentibus  fieri  sacrificinm,  qui 
tanquam  ovis  ad  victimam  ductus  est.  Origen,  Jii  Levit.  Horn.  3 : 
Ipse  etiam  qui  in  similitudiuem  hominum  factus  est,  et  habitu  re- 
pertus  ut  homo,  sine  dubio  pro  peccato  quod  ex  nobis  susceperat, 
quia  peccata  nostra  jDortavit,  vitulum  immaculatum,  hoc  est,  car- 
nem  incontaminatam,  obtulit  hostiam  Deo.  Again,  In  Numer. 
Horn.  4 :  Si  non  fuisset  peccatum,  non  necesse  fuerat  filium  Dei  ag- 
num  fieri,  nee  opus  fuerat  eum  in  carne  positum  jugulari  .  .  .  jjec- 
cati  autem  necessitas  propitiationem  requirit,  et  propitiatio  non  fit 
nisi  per  hostiam.     In  Matth.  c  IG,  trod.  11 :  Homo  quidem  non 


262  NOTES. 

jDotest  dare  aliquam  commutationem  pro  auima  sua,  Deus  autem 
jjro  animabus  omnium  dedit  commutationem  pretiosum  sanguinem 
filii  sui.  Cyprian,  Ad  Demetr.  c.  23 :  Hauc  gratiam  Deus  impertit 
.  .  .  .  redimendo  credentem  pretio  sanguinis  sui,  reconcili- 
ando  hominem  Deo  patri.  Lactantius  in  the  verses  ascribed  to 
him,  De  Beneficiis  Cltristi: — 

Quisquis  ades,  ruediique  subis  in  limina  templi, 
Siste  parum,  iusontemque  tuo  pro  crimine  passum 
Eespice  me. 

These  are  a  few  only  of  the  passages  of  the  Fathers  on  this 
subject,  collected  by  Grotius,  De  Satisfactione  Christi,  and  later 
writers.  An  ample  catena,  embracing  almost  every  known  name 
among  the  Christian  writers  of  the  first  three  ceutmies,  is  given 
by  Professor  Blunt,  Lectures  on  tlie  Use  of  the  Early  Fathers^ 
J).  518  foil.  I  do  not,  however,  discover  in  them  any  expressions 
opposed  to  the  distinction  thus  stated  liy  Hagenbach  {History  of 
Doctrines^  i.  p.  173,  Engl,  trans.)  in  discussing  the  ojjinions  of  the 
primitive  Church : — '  The  tendency  of  Christ's  ajDpearance  on 
earth,  as  such,  was  to  redeem  men  from  sin,  and  to  reconcile  them 
to  God,  inasmuch  as  it  destroyed  the  jDower  of  the  devil,  and  re- 
stored the  harmony  of  human  nature.  But,  in  accordance  with 
the  doctrines  preached  by  the  apostles,  the  sufferings  and  death 
of  Christ  were  from  the  commencement  thought  to  be  of  jirincipal 
importance  in  the  work  of  Redemption.  The  Fathers  of  the 
primitive  Church  regarded  His  death  as  a  sacrifice  and  a  ransom, 
and  therefore  ascribed  to  His  blood  the  jjower  of  cleansing  from 
sin  and  guilt,  and  attached  a  high  importance,  sometimes  even  a 
Supernatural  efficacy,  to  the  sign  of  the  Cross.  .  .  .  Yet  that 
theory  of  satisfaction  had  not  yet  been  formed  which  represents 
Christ  as  satisfying  the  justice  of  God  by  suffering  in  the  room  of 
the  sinner  the  punishment  due  to  him.'  Nevertheless  the  writer 
admits,  what   aj^pears  plainly  enough,  that  '  the   design  of  the 


NOTES.  263 

dcjith  of  Christ  was  to  reconcile  man  to  God  was  an  opinion  held 
by  more  tlian  one  of  the  Fathers.' 

On  the  whole,  we  must  allow  that  among  the  Christians,  as 
among  the  Heathens  of  the  i^rimitive  age,  there  was  much  fluctua- 
tion of  opinion  respecting  the  foundation  of  religious  feeling; 
that  some  were  inclined,  sometimes  at  least,  to  lean  more  to  the 
purifying  and  elevating  eflect  of  Christ's  mission,  some  to  the  pro- 
pitiatory character  of  His  sufferings.  Some  looked  chiefly  to  His 
life,  others  to  His  death ;  some  to  what  He  did  for  men,  others  to 
what  He  suflbred  for  men ;  some  to  His  sanctifying  influence,  oth- 
ers to  His  justifying  merits. 

It  may  be  conceded,  perhaps,  that  the  former,  in  accordance 
with  the  prevalent  religious  sentiment  of  the  time,  and  in  the  ab- 
sence of  any  ruled  decision  of  the  Church  on  the  subject,  was  the 
more  common  inclination  of  the  two.  The  notion  of  purification 
and  exaltation  of  the  human  soul  by  \'irtue  required  or  imj^arted, 
by  the  overthrow  or  extinction  of  evil  powers  and  dispositions, 
was  fondly  entertained  by  the  purest  of  the  heathen  philosophical 
systems ;  such  was  the  aim  of  the  most  poj^ular  superstitious  ob- 
servances of  the  time.  It  is  possible  that  the  Christians  themselves 
may  have  been  so  far  affected  by  the  habits  of  thought  around 
them,  as  to  look  more  to  this  side  of  Christian  doctrine  thxm  to 
the  other.  Of  the  Nicene  creed,  we  may  observe  that  while  pro- 
claiming the  saving  efiicacy  of  our  Lord's  whole  career,  '  Who  for 
us  men  and  for  our  salvation  came  down  from  heaven,  .  .  was  in- 
carnate, .  .  and  was  made  man,  and  was  crucified  also  for  us.  .  .  . 
He  suffered  and  was  buried,  .  .  and  rose  again,'  it  places  the 
death  of  Christ  on  the  same  line  with  every  other  leailing  incident 
in  it,  and  does  not  exalt  it,  as  later  systems  of  theology  would 
generally  do,  to  the  grand  and  cardinal  place  above  them  all.  If 
it  sj^eaks  of  the  sufferings  of  Christ,  it  says  nothing  of  His  Satis- 
faction or  Atonement ;  the  Remission  of  Sins  it  ascribes  rather  to 
His  Baptism  than  to  His  Crucifixion. 


264  KOTES. 


Note  G  G,  page  166. 

S.  Augustin,  Be  Civ.  Dei,  xxii.  30 :  Vera  ibi  gloria  erit,  ubi 
lauclantis  nee  errore  quisquam,  nee  adulatione  laudabitur :  verus 
honor  qui  nulli  uegabitur  digno,  nuUi  deferetur  indigno  :  scd  nee 
ad  eum  ambiet  ullus  indignus,  ubi  nullus  permittetur  esse  nisi  dig- 
nus.  Vera  pax  ibi  est,  ubi  nibil  adversi,  nee  a  se  ipso,  nee  ab  alio 
quisquam  patietur.  Pra?mium  virtutis  ei'it  ipse  qui  virtutem  de- 
dit ;  eique  se  ij)sum,  quo  melius  et  majus  nihil  possit  esse,  promi- 
sit.  Quid  est  enim  aliud  quod  per  Prophetam  dixit,  E?'o  illorum 
Deus,  et  ipsi  erunt  miJii  2^lebs ;  nisi,  Ego  ero  unde  satientur,  Ego 
ero  quaecunque  ab  hominibus  honesty  desiderantur,  et  vita,  et  sa- 
lus,  et  vietus,  et  copia,  et  gloria,  et  honor,  et  pax,  et  omnia  bona? 
Sic  enim  et  illud  recte  intelligitur,  quod  ait  Apostolus,  Ut  sit 
Bens  omnia  in  omnilnis.  Ipse  finis  erit  desideriorum  nostrorum, 
qui  sine  fine  videbitur,  sine  fastidio  amabitur,  sine  fatigatione  lau- 
dabitur. Hoe  munus,  hie  afiiectus,  hie  aetus  profecto  erit  omnibus, 
sicut  ipsa  vita  ajterna,  communis. 

Note  1 1,  page  173. 

We  may  assume  that  the  Christian  apologists  took  care  to  pre- 
sent to  their  heathen  readers  the  arguments  which  they  knew  would 
have  the  greatest  force  with  them.  That,  from  the  superior 
■inorality  of  the  disciples,  is  eloquently  set  forth  by  Justin  Martyr, 
Apol.  i.  c.  14 :  bv  rpdirov  koI  i/jieiQ  [ieto.  to  tcJ  Tidya  ■KEiaOi/vai,  aceivaiv  jiiv 
cnreaT^/iEV,  6e(J  Je  fidvo)  tu  ayew^Tu  6ia,  rov  vlov  eTrd/ieOa '  ol  ndTiai  fiev 
TTopvEiaig  ;\^a(povTef,  vvv  6e  Gu^poavvTjv  fidvriv  daTra^6fiEvoi  •  ol  6e  Kal  fiayi- 
Kalg  rixvaig  ;tf/3<i/ievo;,  dyadui  Kal  ayEvv^Tcp  dsiJ  iavTovg  dvaTsdEiKdreg  • 
Xpv/^o.Tuv  6e  Kat  KTijiidroyv  ol  ■Kopovg  Tvavrog  //o/l/lov  aripyovTEg,  vvv  koX  a 
e^o/^EV  Eig  Kocvuv  ^spovTEg  /cat  ndvri  6E0fj.iv(j)  KoivuvovvTEg  •  ol  lucdTJki^Xoi  61 
Kal  dXkrj7.o<l>6voi  Kal  irpog  rovg  ohx  d/xo(j)u'A,uvg  chd  rd  iOr]  Kal  kariag  Koivdg  uij 
TToiovfiEvoi,  vl'V  /lETa  Ttjv  EiTKpdvEiav  Tov  XpiGTov  dtio6iai~ot  ytvdfiEVoi,  -(al 


NOTES.  265 

inip  Tuv  ixdpuv  evx^/^evoi,  Kai  Tovg  adiKug  fiiaovvrac  ne'iOEiv  Treipu/xevoi, 
uTTug  oi  Kara  rdf  tov  XpiffTov  KoAdf  vTTodTffioafjvac  ficuGavreg  evilKtdEg  uai 
avv  /'/ficv  TUV  avTuv  izapa  tov  ttuvtuv  8ectv6(^ovtoq  6eov  tv;;(eIv.  Compare 
Origen,  Contr.  Cclsum,  i.  6*7 :  Efinolei  Je  davfiaaiav  izpaoTrjTa  Kal  Kara- 
GTOAfjv  Toi)  ijdovc,  Kal  ^ilavdpuTTiav  Kal  xpV<^T6T^Ta  Kal  r}fiEp6T7jTa  kv  Toig  fitj 
6ia  TO.  jiiuTiKa  ?/  rivag  XP^^^C  drdpuTriKag  vTOKptvaizivotg,  aX2.a  irapadE^a/xi- 
voig  yvrjciug  rbv  Tzepl  diov  koI  XpiffTov  Kal  T^g  kao/iivijg  Kphsug  Myov. 

At  a  later  period,  and  under  less  favourable  circumstances, 
Lactantius  could  advance  similar  pretensions,  though  his  rhetori- 
cal style  commands  less  of  our  confidence  (Iiistit.  Div.  iii.  26)  : 
Dei  autem  prajcejDta,  quia  et  simplicia  et  vera  sunt,  quantum  va- 
leant  in  animis  hominum  quotidiana  exempla  demonstrant.  Da 
mihi  virum  qui  sit  ii'acundus,  maledicus,  eflrra3natus ;  paucissimis 
Dei  verbis  tarn  jilacidum  quam  ovem  reddam.  Da  cupidum,  ava- 
rum,  tenacem :  jam  tibi  cum  liberalem  dabo,  et  pecuniam  suam 
plenis  manibus  largientem.  Da  timidum  doloris  ac  mortis  :  jam 
cruces,  et  ignes,  et  Phalaridis  taurum  contemnet.  Da  libidinosum, 
adulterum,  ganeonem :  jam  sobrium,  castum,  continentem  videbis. 
Da  crudelem  et  sanguinis  appetentem :  jam  in  veram  clementiam 
furor  ille  mutabitur  .  .  .  gratis  ista  fiunt,  facile,  cito ;  modo  pa- 
teant  aures,  et  pectus  sapientiam  sitiat  .  .  .  Pauca  vero  Dei  j)rse- 
cepta  sic  totum  hominem  immutant,  et  exposito  vetere,  novum 
reddunt,  ut  non  cognosces  eundem  esse. 

On  the  conversion  of  Pagans  at  the  sight  of  the  Christian 
martyrdoms,  see  particularly  Justin  Martyr,  Apol.  ii.  c.  12 : 
Kal  yap  avTog  t}'6j,  To7g  JllaTuvog  xatpi^v  6i6dy/iam,  dcajiaTikofikvovg  okovuv 
XpiCTiavovg,  opuv  6e  d^djSovg  irpog  OdvaTOV  Kal  ■Ko.vTa  to.  aXka  voinl^6[iEva 
(po^epdj  kvEvSorjv  dd'uvaTov  slvai  kv  KaKia  Kal  (pi7\.7]6ovia  vTrapxsiv  avToir. 

K.  T.  /I. 

This  passage  is  cited  by  Eusebius,  Hkt.  Eccl.  iv.  8.  Comp. 
Justin  M.,  Aiml.  i.  c.  25.  Dial.  c.  Tryph.  c.  110, 119, 131.  To  the 
evidence  thus  afibrded,  the  Pagans  could  only  rejDly  by  imputing 
the  patience  of  the  Christians  to  obstinacy  or  madness.     Tertull., 


266  NOTES. 

A'pol.  c.  37 :  Quiclam  demcntiam  existiniant,  quod  cum  possimus 
et  sacrificare  in  proeseiiti,  et  illa3si  abire  manente  apud  animum 
proposito,  obstinationem  saluti  prseferamus.  c.  50  :  propterea  dea- 
jjerati  et  perditi  cxistimamur.  In  the  same  place :  Nee  quicquam 
tamen  proficit  exquisitior  quseque  crudelitas  vestra ;  illecebra  est 
magis  vitiE  :  plures  cfficimur,  quoties  metinuir  a  vobis :  semen  est 
sanguis  Christianorum.  .  .  Ilia  ipsa  obstinatio,  quam  exprobratis, 
magistra  est.  Quis  enim  non  contemplatione  ejus  concutitur  ad 
requirendum,  quid  intus  in  re  sit  ?  Quis  non,  ubi  rcquisivit,  acce- 
dit  ?  ubi  accessit,  pati  exhoi-tat  ? 

Compare  Epict.,  Dissert,  iv.  7 :  elra  vnb  fiaviag  /uev  Si'varai  rtc: 
ovTO)  diaredT/vai  Trpbg  ravra,  koI  vtto  IdovQ  uq  ol  Ta?ii.2,a7oi,  virb  loyov  6e  Kal 
anodel^eug  ovSeic  dvvarai.  M.  Aurel.,  Medit.  xi.  3 :  //;)  Kara  i^iM/v  Tvapa- 
Ta^iv^  wf  oi  XniaTiavoi. 

In  tlie  Ejjistle  to  Diognetus,  one  of  the  pieces  attributed  to 
Justin  Martyr,  the  heathen  is  invited  to  remark,  among  other  to- 
kens of  their  moral  superiority,  that  the  Christians  do  not  expose 
their  infiints :  yafiovmv.  .  .  TEKPoyovovciv,  ciXTJ  oh  piTTTovac  ru  yewu/ueva. 
Among  the  heathen,  this  abominable  practice,  which  grew  proba- 
bly more  and  more  rife  with  the  decline  of  society,  was  the  result 
often  of  misery,  but  more  commonly  of  indolence  and  selfishness. 
When  we  remember  that  the  Christians,  who  denied  themselves 
this  miserable  resource,  were  excluded  by  their  principles  from 
many  of  the  employments  and  avocations  of  their  fellow-citizens, 
we  can  easily  imagine  how  superior  they  must  have  been  to  the 
mass  of  those  around  them  in  self-denial,  self-confidence,  and  en- 
ergy ;  in  all  the  virtues,  in  short,  which  in  the  long  run  secure 
success  in  life.  I  imagine  that  no  cause  contributed  more  to  the 
triumi)h  of  Christianity  than  'the  moral  disciiJlinc  to  which  its 
disciples  were  necessarily  subjected. 


NOTES.  267 


Note  K  K,  page  183. 

The  story  is  told  by  Sozomen,  Hist.  Eccles.  i.  18,  aud  is  rci)eatcd 
hy  most  writers  ou  Churcli  history  as  a  vivid  illustration  of  the 
temper  of  the  times.  Some  may  pay  it  the  tribute  of  a  passing 
smile,  others  make  an  open  jest  of  it.  To  me  it  seems  to  have  a 
deep  and  grave  significance.  I  believe  that  among  the  most 
thoughtful  and  logical  of  reasoners  the  final  movement  towards 
conversion  has  often  been  one  of  sudden  inexplicable  impulse,  and 
I  trace  in  this  individual  instance,  whether  actual  or  mythical,  a 
striking  emblem  of  the  way  in  which  the  last  links  which  bound 
the  Eoman  empii'e  to  Paganism  were  mysteriously,  providentially, 
perhaps  I  may  say  miraculously,  snapped  asunder. 


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